Daily Archives: May 21, 2017

Movie Review: Alien: Covenant (2017)

Zzzz.  Zzzz.  Zzzz.

That’s my impression of myself sleeping through this boring poopfest.

Sigh, let’s get it over with.  BQB here with a review of Alien: Covenant.

Does Ridley Scott even make movies for the audience anymore?  Sometimes I think they might just be for his own philosophical, navel gazing purposes.

In the original Alien (1979) we saw Sigourney Weaver play space traveler Ripley, taking out aliens with a flamethrower.  Flash forward 38 years and we’ve got friggin melancholy androids waxing poetic about their feelings and beside themselves with ennui.

The first few Alien films were great because they were essentially horror films set in space.  In fact, I caught a clip of an interview recently where Scott said something to the effect that the first film was essentially setting up a haunted house in the form of a spaceship, turning a monster lose in the form of an alien and seeing who makes it out alive.

Alas, now we get films that you practically have to be a philosophy major to understand.

Ironically, 2012’s Prometheus was panned by the critics, arguing it was heavy on the thinking and light on the action.  Personally, I liked it and the questions it asked about the universe, creation, the meaning of life, our place and purpose and so on.

However, I had hoped this film would be a return to form (i.e. give us someone else to shoot a flame thrower at those damn aliens) but sadly, no.  More navel gazing.

In this go around, a ship named the Covenant carries a crew full of colonists in search of a new home world.  They land on what they hope will be their new home but…blah blah blah, they become lunch instead.

Sure, the xenomorphs are given free reign to snack on the humans.  However, most of the human vs. alien scenes are predictable if you’ve ever seen any of the previous films.

Bottomline:  if you see a dude coughing, you know an alien’s going to pop out of his chest and start attacking everyone.  If you see a dude look into a dark hole with a dumb look on his face, you know that face is about to get sucked on by a face sucker.

Those aren’t spoilers.  Those are tried and true Alien franchise rules that have been in effect since the Carter administration.

Michael Fassbender brings a certain level of coolness by playing dueling androids David and Walter, a pair of synthetics who have opposing viewpoints about…well, just go watch it.

For the most part, it’s an ensemble cast, mostly filled with newcomers and no-names.  Funnyman Danny McBride puts on his serious face as the crew’s pilot, but I keep expecting him to break out into his Kenny Powers persona and whip out his junk, drink a beer and burp or do something else hysterically outrageous.  Spoiler alert: he doesn’t, so we can only assume that Danny is trying to expand on his range as a thespian.  He does well, though I hope this doesn’t mean an end is coming to his Kenny Powers-ian style characters in the future.

Billy Crudup plays Captain Oram, a by the book dweeb disliked by his crew.  We’re lead to think that angle might go somewhere but it doesn’t and ultimately, it’s such a large cast filled with either unrecognizable (never saw them in anything) or vaguely recognizable (I know I’ve seen that face in another film but I have no idea who they are) that none of the characters really get enough screen time to grow, develop, or even become moderately interesting.

If there is a new age Ripley in the movie, it’s Katherine Waterston’s Daniels, a crew member who, umm, uhh…yeah we don’t get to learn much because again, she’s one of a much too large cast.  But she has some great scenes where she kicks ass and saves a day and so on.

I really think Scott has to go to his room and think about what he has done and what the future of this franchise should be.  Should he return to its “haunted house in space” origins?  Tempting but difficult, seeing as how, as stated above, the rules about how these aliens attack have been well known since 1979 so we can spot them coming from a mile away.

Should the franchise continue to expand upon the philosophical “Why are we here?” type questions?  Possibly, though frankly, I spend most of my time trying to distract myself from the fact that I’m little more than a tiny, insignificant little gnat stuck to the giant, overreaching windshield of the space-time continuum, so I really don’t need a pair of depressed, ennui laden, morose androids reminding me.

Plotwise, it’s all kind of slapped together and relies on you remembering what happened in Prometheus, which is unrealistic because I can’t remember where I left my car keys half the time.  (Wait, let me check the fridge.)

Scott does increase the alien attacks over the last film.  But he also continues the philosophical hullaballoo so it seems like he was confused as to whether he wanted a thriller or a thinker, so he tried for both and in the end, scored neither.

I will give the film this.  The scenes where Michael Fassbender plays two different versions of himself are great and the technology that can allow an actor to do this has really come a long way.

Otherwise, hold your nose because it’s a big stink-a-roo.

STATUS:  I hate to do this.  I don’t want to do this.  Ridley Scott, why are you making me do this?  It’s not shelf-worthy.  There, I said it.  And that’s not fair, because I have given shittier films shelf-worthy status because I’m a nice guy and I don’t want to be rude but you know, I expected less from those films and more from this one.  I really thought this would be good but at best, it was blah.  It’s worth a rental but don’t rush out to the theater for it.

I think this might be a sign of what we can only hope will be the end of Hollywood’s never-ending sequel/prequel/reboot obsession.  There’s only so many ways to spice up and reheat leftovers before they congeal into a big pile of crap.  Sometimes the pizza tastes good the first time and even better cold but then after the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh return to that box buried in the dark corner of the fridge, the pieces begin to taste stale and dry and hey, is that mold growing on my 38 year old pizza?  Whodathunkit?

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Johnson/Hanks 2020

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Tom Hanks jokingly claimed on SNL a plan to run for President and Vice-President on the season finale of SNL last night.

Would you vote for them?  Something tells me that just becomes the Trumpster won doesn’t mean that it would work for any celebrity.

Sigh.  The Rock is right though.  America is only in agreement on one thing – that these two are great.  Getting into politics would ruin that for them.  After all, the best anyone can ever do as President is to make 50% of the people happy at any given time.

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 56

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President Vincenzo “Vinny” Stugotz sat in front of a mirror of his presidential dressing room while a team of servants ran around, prepping him for his day. Two servants lowered a one-foot tall, jet black pompadour on the President’s bald cranium and stapled it to his scalp.

“Ouch,” the President said as the staples entered his skin. “So painful and yet, so swanky.”

The President ran a comb through his luxurious faux hair while two more servants brought over an array of spray cans. “Shall we go with Tropical Surprise or Mediterranean Madness today, sir?”

“Hmm,” President Stugotz said. “You know, I’m feeling a little extra pale today. Let’s go with the Maui Madness.”

“Maui Madness it is, sir,” a servant said. The President popped two plastic eye guards over his eyeballs while the servants shook up their spray cans. Soon, the Commander-in-Chief was being doused in the face with a hefty application of spray on tanning solution.

“Ahh,” the President said as he admired his look in the mirror. “So brown I wouldn’t even let myself in the country!”

There was a knock on the door. “Sir, are you decent?”

“OMG,” President Stugotz said. “Who would dare disturb me at this ungodly hour?”

“It’s eleven a.m. sir,” came the voice from the other side of the door.

“That early?” President Stugotz said. “The sacrifices I make for my country. Come in, Bob.”

Bob Breckenridge, the President’s buzz cut sporting Chief-of-Staff, stepped in only to find a butt naked POTUS.

“Sir,” Breckenridge said. “Seal Team Ten is waiting outside and oh…oh my…”

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen an executive branch before, Bob,” the President said as he turned to his servants. “Black suit number ninety-seven. Elongated red power tie number fifty-two. Make it snappy.”

The servants whirled around the President, dressing him up nice and stylish. Once he was fully clothed, he looked at his dutiful subordinate.

“Bob,” the President said. “I’ve been glued to Network News One. Literally glued. I can’t take my eyes off of it. I’ve been Lifeboxing all of their coverage.”

“I once again must ask that you run all of your Lifebox comments by the cabinet, sir,” Breckenridge said. “‘The Hotass Blonde Chicks need to have twenty percent bigger titties’ is not presidential at all.”

“I thought I was being restrained,” President Stugotz said. “Really, ninety-percent would be better. I mean, those reporter ladies have some incredibly big titties already, but if you ask me, only ridiculously, absurdly, cartoonishly large breasts will do.”

“Right,” Breckenridge said. “Anyway, sir. Are you ready for your top secret mission?”

“Of course,” the President said. “Let’s move.”

President Stugotz and Breckenridge exited the bedroom and proceeded to walk down a long hallway, surrounded by the members of Seal Team Ten. Each member was clad in black body armor and helmets that covered their faces. They carried automatic weapons. They spoke through microphones in their helmets.

“The Eagle is on the move,” one member said. “Repeat, the Eagle is on the move.”

“Copy,” another member said. “Exterminate all threats with extreme prejudice.”

“Bob,” President Stugotz said. “I want to be straight with you. This mission is not for the feint of heart and frankly, some of us might not be coming back so if you want to run away like a little school girl in pigtails, now is the time.”

“No way, sir,” Breckenridge said. “I signed up to stand by your side as you lead America into a new age of glory and nothing will scare me away.”

“That’s a tremendous response, Bob,” the President said. “Really, classy. Big time classiness.”

The contingent stopped at an elevator. Breckenridge typed in a long numeric code and pressed his thumb onto an identification plate. The elevator doors opened and the contingent entered.

“Has the site been thoroughly swept?” President Stugotz asked.

“Indeed, sir,” one of the seal team members said. “The K9 unit just made a pass through and reported no hits.”

“Excellent,” President Stugotz said. “That’s amazing. Really fabulous. You’re all aces in my book. Aces.”

The elevator began to descend deep underneath the White House. The floors ticked off on the readout. “Sublevel 1, Sublevel 2, Sublevel 3…”

“Mr. President,” Breckenridge said. “I must admit, the polls on your response to the Toilet Killer situation are not good.”

“No, they aren’t, Bob,” the President said. “That’s why you need to get the FBI Director on the phone and get that lady agent pulled off the case.”

“Is it really proper to interfere with an investigation, sir?” Breckenridge asked.

“Is it really proper to keep allowing honest, hard-working Americans to be murdered while they’re shitting, Bob?” the President asked. “Good God, man. Use your head. Every shitter that’s murdered is a potential voter and one less person who will show up to vote for me in 2020. Batzengant and Wannadingle are busting a nut every time the Toilet Killer strikes because they know people will never vote for a President who allowed a Toilet Killer to kill indiscriminately and with reckless abandon on his watch. Like those asshats could do any better, they couldn’t get a bill through the Senate with a bucket a grease and an offer for a free hooker for everyone on Capitol Hill.”

“I’m told that Agent Walker is highly respected in law enforcement circles,” Breckenridge said.

The elevator continued to drop. “Sublevel 45, sub level 46, sub level 47…”

“Yeah,” President Stugotz said. “But you heard that hayseed Mayor on TV. Agent Walker has a vagina and frankly, that’s an excellent point.”

“That she has a vagina, sir?” Breckenridge asked.

“Exactly,” President Stugotz said. “I mean, it’s not her fault that she has one, sure, but I concur with the Mayor of Sitwell on this one. Only a big, beautiful man with a giant penis will be able to solve this most confounding case and we need to get it solved quick so I can get back to the very important business of Making America Fabulous again. I promised my voters a fabulous America and by God, they will get a fabulous America.”

“Well,” Breckenridge said. “I’ve been going through the FBI files and it just so happens that Agent Walker’s partner, Agent Bishop, has an extraordinary large penis, so big, in fact, that the FBI’s head physician classified it as a ‘medical oddity.’”

“I don’t even want to know why you’re looking up FBI agent penis sizes, Bob,” President Stugotz said.

“I like to be thorough, sir,” Breckenridge said.

The elevator stopped at sub-level 101. The contingent exited and began walking through a long, dark hallway. They came to the first door and a robotic voice came through a loudspeaker.

“Retina identification, please.”

President Stugotz shoved his eyeball up to a scanner. The door opened. The contingent walked down yet another long hallway.

“Whatever,” President Stugotz said. “Take Agent Walker off. Put Agent Bishop in charge.”

“Will do, sir,” Breckenridge said.

“Americans cannot be afraid to shit anymore,” the President said. “No one’s going to be scared to take a shit on my watch.”

The contingent stopped at another door. “Breath identification, please.”

President Stugotz breathed on a scanner. The door opened and the contingent headed down yet another hallway.

“Are we ready for this shit, Bob?” President Stugotz asked.

“All safety precautions have been taken, sir,” Breckenridge said. “The Air Force has scrambled its best fighter jet pilots to keep watch overhead, while our best tank battalion has arrived on the White House front lawn.”

“Fantastic,” President Stugotz said.

The contingent reached a final door. “Voice identification, please.”

“President Vinny Stugotz, here,” the President said.

The door opened as the robotic voice replied, “President Stugotz voice identification scan complete. All hail President Stugotz.”

The contingent entered a top secret, underground bathroom with black walls, floors, and a sleek, stylish toilet in the center of the room. Five secret service agents wearing dark sunglasses stood around the toilet, with their arms folded behind their backs.

“Sir,” one of the agents said. “Ready for waste elimination when you are, sir.”

President Stugotz turned the members of Seal Team Ten. “Are we a go?”

“Waiting on your go code, sir,” one of the members said.

President Stugotz held up his wrist and played with the buttons on his watch. “Synchronize your watches on my mark…mark!”

All seals and secret service agents adjusted their watches accordingly.

“Go code alpha bravo charlie one one zero one one niner five,” President Stugotz said.

“Go code is a solid copy,” one of the seals said. “Confirmation code beta beta hawkeye delta one seven four. Proceed when ready.”

President Stugotz dropped his pants and sat on the toilet.
One seal held up a sniper rifle. “Sniper unit standing by.”

A second seal held up a jagged tactical knife. “Hand to hand combat unit, standing by.”

A third seal held up a can of air freshener and sprayed a cherry vanilla scent into the room. “Air freshener unit standing by.”

The agents and seals formed a circler around the toilet and turned their backs to give the President some privacy.

“Maybe I should just step outside,” Breckenridge said.

The President strained his bowels. “Ergh…ugh…no. Don’t be silly. This is going to be a working shit, Bob. I’ve got more orders for you.”

“Very good, sir,” Breckenridge replied.

“Aargh,” the President said as his face turned red. “Damn it, this is going to be awhile. I know I should have listened to the First Lady about those damn bran muffins.”

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Toilet Gator – Network News One Transcript #5

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Network News One Transcript #5

KURT MANLEY: Witnesses on the scene said the manatees ate every last one of the environmentalist protesters, causing the workers on the oil rig to laugh and laugh and laugh some more. Talk about cruel irony.

(Kurt looks at a different camera.)

KURT MANLEY: Good morning, USA. If you’re just joining us, I’m Kurt Manley, America’s Favorite News Anchor. You’re watching Network News One, the only channel with the hottest blonde chick reporters with the biggest titties. Oh yeah, and occasionally we report the news and shit.

(A graphic pops up to Kurt’s right. It depicts a toilet with a big giant X stamped on it.)

KURT MANLEY: And now for our top story. “America’s Shitting Nightmare.” The toilet killer has struck again, this time taking the life of Adelaide Hotchkiss, an elderly stripper better known to the patrons of the Sitwell, Florida erotic entertainment nightclub Big Ray-Ray’s House of Fancy Funbags by her stage name, “Roxy.”

(An obese man with a long beard, sunglasses, and a stained shirt appears on screen, speaking into a microphone.)

BIG RAY-RAY: Aw, hell yeah it’s sadder than a monkey fucking a football in this joint ever since we learned about Old Roxy. She wasn’t my prettiest stripper, or even my best one but dammit, that gal has never missed a day of work since 1987. From the Reagan Era all through the 1990s and 2000s, if there’s been one constant around here, it’s been Roxy’s big, gelatin filled ass working its way all over the sweatpants clad crotches of all of my discerning gentlemen customers. That’s why, in Roxy’s honor, all lap dances will be fifty percent off for the rest of the day and I’m gonna knock a dollar off the cost of the all you can eat hot wing bar. It’s the least I can do.

(KURT MANLEY, back in studio)

KURT MANLEY: Four grizzly murders in two days. All of the victims evacuating their bowels on the toilet when they met their doom. This has caused widespread panic in Florida, where residents have become so scared of sitting on the crapper that they’ve been coming up with new methods of eliminating their bodily waste. Here’s a Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties with more on this story.

(NATALIE BROCK appears on camera, standing in front of the Sitwell Police Station. She is wearing her blonde wig and her bra is stuffed with ripe melons.)

NATALIE BROCK: That’s right, Kurt. The latest development in the Toilet Killer’s non-stop murder spree is that Floridians are scared too shit! I conducted a series of man on the street interviews to find out why people are so terrified of the toilet. Check out these results.

(NATALIE’S man on the street interviews begin. First, an average looking guy in a polo T-shirt.)

RANDOM MAN: I have had to go for nearly thirty-five hours now, but I’ve been holding it.

NATALIE BROCK: Why?

RANDOM MAN: I do not want to end up like Countess Cucamonga or any of those other people. If I don’t shit then the Toilet Killer can’t get me.

NATALIE BROCK: Thirty-five hours. That’s some amazing sphincter control right there.

RANDOM MAN: Yes, I’m very proud of myself.

NATALIE BROCK: Still, that’s a long time. Aren’t you worried that you’ll eventually lose control and…

RANDOM MAN: No, ma’am. I’m in peak physical condition. I can hold it for as long as I need to and….ERGH…

(The man’s face turns red. NATALIE waves the air away from her nose.)

RANDOM MAN: Nevermind.

NATALIE BROCK VOICEOVER: Yes, while some citizens have tried holding it, others have turned to less traditional methods of shit disposal.

(NATALIE confronts a man wearing a T-shirt from his favorite rock band. He’s standing next to a pile of cardboard boxes and holding one of them up in the air.)

BOX SALESMAN: Get your shit boxes! Get your shit boxes! Fifty bucks for a shit box!

(An old man performs an impromptu “I need to shit dance” as he walks up to the salesman and forks over some cash).

OLD MAN: Give me one of those!

BOX SALESMAN: Pleasure doing business with you, sir.

NATALIE BROCK: Sir, are you profiteering off of a tragedy?

BOX SALESMAN: Are you kidding me? I’m performing a service here, lady. People need to shit. Toilets aren’t safe. A cardboard box is the next thing.

NATALIE BROCK: But fifty dollars for a cardboard box is outrageous.

BOX SALESMAN: I went to a lot of trouble to get these boxes. I had to run around town swiping them from liquor stores and grocery stores all day. Look, people need to shit and I’m giving them a safe alternative.

NATALIE’S VOICEOVER: While concerned citizens are turning to non-traditional shit holding containers, some are just going au natural.

(A young couple walk through a park, holding hands. They cop a squat next to a tree, drop their pants, and let it rip. Black bars appear over their private areas.)

NATALIE’S VOICEOVER: Some are even predicting the end of days.

(A homeless man wearing a trash bag as a shirt walks up and down a street, ringing a bell. Over his trash bag shirt, he wears a sandwich board sign that reads, ‘Repent All Ye Shitters!’”

HOMELESS MAN: The end of the world draws nigh! Shit and be damned!

NATALIE BROCK: Sir, do you really think the Toilet Killer is worth all this fuss?

HOMELESS MAN: Yes! The Toilet Killer is one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse! First, it’s the Toilet Killer, killing you while you shit! Next it will come the Urinal Killer, who will chop off your dick with a butcher knife while you take you a piss!

NATALIE BROCK: That’s a rather grim prognostication.

HOMELESS MAN: Indeed! Next comes the Bidet Killer. He’ll shoot you in the ass while you’re just trying to clean your rear-end and finally, the Bath Tub killer will destroy all who try to tidy up. I haven’t taken a bath since the first George Bush was president and everyone laughed at me but who’s laughing now, huh? Who’s laughing now?! Muah ha ha!

NATALIE BROCK’S VOICEOVER: A handful of residents continue to brave the porcelain throne, but not without taking extreme cautionary measures.

(NATALIE is lead to the bathroom of Freedom Firepower by MOSES. There, she finds Felix on the can holding a twelve-gauge shotgun. His privates are covered by a black bar.)

MOSES: Ma’am, this here is America, land of the free and home of the brave. In 1776, George Washington swam across the Atlantic, cock punched King George and said, “Listen you limey fuck stick, America is ours now, so cut all the bullshit if you don’t want another cockpunch.” George Washington then swam back to America where he then proceeded to round house kick every last red coat in the face until they all begged for mercy.

NATALIE BROCK: I’m not sure you have the best grasp on history, sir.

MOSES: And you sound like a raging liberal cook burger who wants to perform cunnilingus on Hillary Clinton, ma’am.

NATALIE BROCK: Let’s move on.

MOSES: Yes. Anyway, all I’m saying is this is America. King George couldn’t keep it and we’ve defended it from all sorts of enemies over the years, ranging from the Nazis to the damn terrorists and now we’ve got a Toilet Killer out there, running amuck. People, you can’t stop shitting on your toilets because if you stop shitting on toilets then the Toilet Killer wins.

NATALIE BROCK: But what about people who are afraid of becoming the Toilet Killer’s next victim?

MOSES: Simple, ma’am. Come on down to Freedom Firepower and for the low, low price of a thousand dollars, you can take a shit in my customer bathroom, which I have turned into the most secure shit parlor in the land.

NATALIE BROCK: What security measures have you taken?

MOSES: Well, as you can see, my hetero life partner Felix is packing a twelve-gauge. That’s fully loaded and can blow a hole the size of a trash can lid through an assailant at ten paces. We’ll give you one of those to hold onto while you’re taking a dump because when it comes to safety, the first line of defense comes from the shitter him or herself. Yes, I said “herself” because we’re not going to discriminate against you if you’re a woman. The lady folk need protection while they shit too.

NATALIE BROCK: Any other precautions?

MOSES: Yes.

(MOSES points out five different cameras lining the walls, all pointed at the toilet)

MOSES: Five, count ‘em five HD security cameras will capture all the action, so if the Toilet Killer dares show his ugly face in here, we will get a positive ID on the perpetrator.

NATALIE BROCK: Will that footage be erased after your customers use the bathroom?

MOSES: I can’t comment on that but it will not be uploaded on a website called “HD Bathroom Footage” where subscriptions will be sold for $29.99 a month, that I can assure you.

NATALIE BROCK: Anything else?

(MOSES holds up a high-powered assault rifle)

MOSES: Yes, I of course, will be standing watch over you while you move your bowels and any and all intruders who dare to enter into my line of sight will be cut down posthaste. No one is going to kill any shitters on my watch.

NATALIE BROCK: Is that all?

(MOSES flips a switch. A grid of red lasers fills the bathroom.)

MOSES: These lasers are connected to C4 rigged explosive devices that I have packed into the walls, so whatever you do, don’t make any sudden moves.

NATALIE BROCK: But won’t that also kill the person on the toilet?

MOSES: It’s called “mutually assured self destruction,” ma’am. Simply put, if the Toilet Killer tries to kill one of my shitting customers, he will have to kill himself in the process. I’m willing to be good money that the Toilet Killer is such a coward that he would never dare put himself in danger and therefore all my customers will be safe while they shit.

NATALIE: Mutually assured self-destruction, you say?

MOSES: Yes. It’s the same reason why America and Russia have all those nukes. Every country needs to stock up on nukes to keep all the other countries with nukes from nuking them. If everyone has a nuke, then everyone will be afraid to drop a nuke. The more nukes in the world, the safer the world is. That’s just science.

NATALIE: Well, I suppose you can’t argue with science.

NATALIE VOICEOVER: I caught up with Mayor Dufresne to obtain his views on the matter.

(Mayor Dufresne appears in his car lot, holding up a bag of adult diapers next to a porta-potty.)

THE MAYOR: Howdy, y’all! This Toilet Killer really is an insufferable Son of a Bitch, ain’t he? Well, I’ll tell you what, Mayor Beaumont Dufresne isn’t about to allow his constituency to suffer. No siree, Bob! Y’all mosey on over to Mayor Beaumont Dufresne’s Slightly Used Car Emporium and for a hundred dollars, you can take a shit in one of the many ports-potties I have had trucked onto my lot. The Toilet Killer hasn’t struck a porta-potty yet, so I have no doubt y’all will be safe in one of my outhouses.

NATALIE BROCK: Mayor, that’s nice, but what about…

THE MAYOR: The shitter on the go? No problem. I have bought up every last adult diaper in Grover County, so come on down and I will outfit you with some man-sized disposable underpants for the low price of seventy-five dollars a pair.

NATALIE BROCK: Actually, I wanted to get your thoughts on the investigation.

THE MAYOR: Oh, it’s a shambles, my dear. An absolute shambles. Four people have been killed on the John in less than two days, two of those people right here in Sitwell and do you know what that incompetent boob Chief Walker did?

NATALIE BROCK: What?

THE MAYOR: He went in hauled in my boy Buford for questioning. The boy’s simple and slower than a pile of molasses running down hill in January and anyone could take one look at him and realize the kid can barely zip up his own fly let alone plot and carry out a series of toilet murders with cunning precision. Yet, that idiot Walker wasted the taxpayers’ time and money harassing my boy when he could have been out there looking for the real killer.

NATALIE BROCK: So I take it you think the investigation is not going well?

THE MAYOR: Not at all. That’s why this morning I called upon the town counsel and drew up the papers necessary to have all of Sitwell’s police functions transferred over into the very competent hands of Sheriff Hammond.

(The Mayor knocks on a porta-potty door)

THE MAYOR: Sheriff, can you come out and have a word with the press?

SHERIFF HAMMOND: Ungh…one second.

(The Sheriff steps out of the porta-potty and buckles up his belt.)

SHERIFF HAMMOND: Yes, good people of Sitwell, have no fear, for Chief Walker’s reign of terror as the town’s worst ever officer of the law is over. I’m proud to announce that all Sitwell police officers will from here on become Grover County Sheriff’s Deputies.

NATALIE BROCK: Will there be any cutbacks?

(The SHERIFF pulls out a piece of paper and puts on a pair of reading glasses.)

SHERIFF HAMMOND: Yes, ma’am. I hold in my hand here a list of the Sitwell Police Department officers who did not make the final cut. Ahem. ‘Chief Cole Walker.’ That is all.

(THE MAYOR and THE SHERIFF laugh in a maniacal manor.)

NATALIE BROCK: Mr. Mayor, will removing Chief Walker from office really have any impact on this investigation? After all, Sharon Walker is the FBI agent in charge.

THE MAYOR: Yes, and it’s a crying shame she is, because frankly darling, and I don’t mean any offense, but I really don’t think that anyone with a vagina is up to the challenge of bringing in the Toilet Killer. What we need is a man with a big ole’ swingin’ dick to catch this vile fiend. That’s why I am, as of now, calling on President Stugotz to intervene and take Agent Walker off of this investigation. Anyone who married a man with a penis as small as the one that ex-Chief Walker is packing has exercised poor judgment, in my humble opinion, and can no longer be trusted with such a sensitive investigation. People’s lives are at stake.

NATALIE BROCK: That’s a very serious claim.

THE MAYOR: These are very serious times, my dear. Very serious times indeed.

(NATALIE reappears live in front of the Sitwell Police Station.)

NATALIE BROCK: Kurt, ex-Chief Walker refused to return any of my calls for comment, but it seems as though things are heating up behind the scenes, with the investigators themselves coming under heavy fire.

KURT MANLEY: An interesting development indeed, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. By the way, I’m told by our top notch team of attorneys here at Network News One that we are able to reveal a very big secret to our audience, is that correct?

NATALIE BROCK: Yes, Kurt. During the Toilet Killer’s rampage, someone, and I’m fairly certain it was the Toilet Killer himself, texted my cell phone, providing me with updates on his gruesome crimes. Upstanding citizen that I am, I reported this matter to Agent Walker and having been holding back on this information out of fear that publicly divulging it could jeopardize the investigation. However, Agent Walker has confirmed to me as of this morning that the results of her inquiry into the text messages came up inconclusive, and the Toilet Killer is no closer to being captured.

KURT MANLEY: Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties, I am stunned that Agent Walker is fumbling this case big time. I mean, you gave Agent Walker your phone with text messages on it from the killer. What more evidence could she possibly need?

NATALIE BROCK: We can only assume those messages were from the killer, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Don’t interrupt a man while he’s speaking, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties.

NATALIE BROCK: I’m sorry, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: As you should be. I’m just pointing out that Agent Walker seems to be screwing up this case big time and a monkey wearing a Sherlock Holmes hat would probably be better suited to lead the investigation at this point. Maybe the Mayor is right. Maybe it’s time for someone without a vagina to take a look into this matter.

NATALIE BROCK: I’ll be staying on this case as it develops, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Thank you, Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties. Sticking with this story, while the toilet killer’s rampage has, so far, been concentrated in Florida, people across the country and around the world have voiced their own concerns about shitting.

(Footage is shown of people throwing toilets into the streets and smashing them with hammers and baseball bats.)

KURT MANLEY: Riots have broken out in every major city, with people smashing their toilets to smithereens, too afraid to even keep them in their homes anymore. Meanwhile, our intrepid team of Hot Ass Blonde Chick Reporters with Big Titties have informed this anchor that reports of shitting related fears have been coming in from every continent. Even scientists in Antartica are concerned…

(Footage shows of a scientist in a fluffy down parka with the hood pulled over his head squatting over a hole in the ice while a gaggle of penguins watch.)

KURT MANLEY: The Pope even commented on the situation during a recent mass at the Vatican…

(Footage of the Pope addressing a mass.)

THE POPE: Il poopi di poopi poopi si como ti poopi poopi il shitti shitti….

VOICE OVER TRANSLATOR: As Jesus once said, ‘Let he who is not afraid to take a shit cast the first shit.’ Blessed are the meek shitters, for they shall inherit the earth.

KURT MANLEY: And Sir Alistair Smythe, Official Spokesman for the Queen of England, had this to say.

(Footage of a rather dapper looking British gentleman in front of a podium.)

SIR ALISTAIR SMYTHE: Ladies and Gentlemen, the Queen very much appreciates your inquiries into her water closet related safety but I assure you, this is a non-issue. The Queen is not afraid to shit for the simple fact that Her Majesty has never once taken a shit in her entire life. Everyone knows that members of the royalty do not shit. Rather, their waste spontaneously combusts while a feint scent of cinnamon emanates from their bodily cavity.

(SIR SMYTHE looks around to see if the coast is clear.)

SIR ALISTAIR SMYTHE: But if you can keep it on the down low, then I might be inclined to inform you that Her Majesty will be taking her shits in the corner and blaming it on her adorable Corgis for the foreseeable future.

(Kurt, back in studio)

KURT MANLEY: Back at home, the presidential election is years away, yet President Stugotz’ top 2020 challengers are already turning the Toilet Killer’s wide swath of destruction into a campaign issue. Live via satellite feed, we have Senator Jason Batzengant, who intends to challenge President Stugotz in the next Republican presidential primary, and Senator Elsie Wannadingle, the Democratic frontrunner. Senators, welcome.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Thank you.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: Good to be here, Kurt.

KURT MANLEY: Senator Batzengant, let’s start with you. President Stugotz’s national approval ratings are stagnant, yet among Republican voters, they’re higher than ever. What makes you think you’d be able to knock Stugotz off the throne?

SENATOR BATZENGANT: I’ve got two words for you, Kurt. “Toilet Killer Insanity.”

KURT MANLEY: That’s three words, Senator.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Don’t try to trip me up with your fancy liberal book learning, Kurt. This Toilet Killer situation is a mess and President Stugotz has done nothing about it. President Stugotz promised to be a law and order president, one who would bring criminals to justice and yet he’s done nothing but play one round of golf after another while Florida residents are being murdered simply for exercising their constitutional right to shit.

KURT MANLEY: I’m not sure there is a constitutional right to shit, Senator.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: It’s in the back, somewhere. Listen, we need a president who isn’t going to be a little pussy boy, coddling criminals while God-fearing, taxpaying Americans are cowering in their bathrooms, scared to death of their own toilets and too afraid to shit. That’s why, when I’m president, I’m going to lock up anyone who has even looked at a toilet cross-eyed. That’s right, I am going to flood our prison industrial complex with people who fit a very distinct potential Toilet Killer profile and only then will it be safe to shit again.

KURT MANLEY: Senator Wannadingle, your thoughts?

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: Kurt, that blowhard conservative jackass has it all wrong.

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Don’t call me a blowhard conservative, you commie pinko rug chomper.

KURT MANLEY: Let’s retract the claws, kittens. 2020 is still a long way away.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: All I was trying to say before I was so rudely interrupted by that jack booted fascist is that it is not very woke to assume this Toilet Killer is a bad person.

KURT MANLEY: But he’s killing people while they’re shitting on the toilet.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: Is he? Or is he expressing his rage at a system that puts the one percent of millionaires and billionaires above the impoverished classes. Maybe this Toilet Killer, maybe he’s a man, maybe he’s a woman, maybe he or she is a bisexual genderqueer other-kin with ambidextrous bilateral gender fluid anti-normative tendencies…we don’t know. What we can only assume though is this human being has most likely had a difficult life and after many years of being put upon by an unjust system, this person is finally lashing out so really, when you really think about it, we all had a role in creating this system so in essence, we are all the Toilet Killer.

(KURT MANLEY stares blankly into the camera.)

KURT MANLEY: Holy shit. Are you two really considered the best and brightest of your respective political parties?

SENATOR BATZENGANT: Yes Kurt.

SENATOR WANNADINGLE: You know it.

(Kurt sighs and looks at a different camera.)

KURT MANLEY: Well, there you have it, folks. A Toilet Killer is on the loose and the country’s leaders have officially flushed their brains down the toilet. Don’t touch that dial and stay off the toilet as we’ll be bringing you the latest updates on America’s Shitting Nightmare. Coming up in the next hour, is there a cookie that can make you go blind? We’ll tell you which cookies to remove from your cookie jar after sports and weather but first, these commercial messages.

ANNOUNCER: Network News One. The Hottest Blonde Chick Reporters. The biggest titties. Oh yeah, and occasionally we report the news and shit.

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Fourteen Weeks of Toilet Gator Sundays

Once again, someone who may or may not be a real medical doctor (I’m leaning towards not) reminds you of the dangerous medical symptoms that come with being bitten on the butt by a toilet gator:

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Movie Review – Gifted (2017)

Math!  The dreaded court system!  Family turmoil!

BQB here with a review of Gifted.

In this released too early Oscar bait “everyone show off their dope ass acting skills” drama, Chris Evans takes off his Captain America uniform to play Frank Adler, a boat repairman earning a modest living while being the guardian of his precocious seven year old niece, Mary (McKenna Grace).

Shenanigans ensue when Mary’s teacher, Miss Stevenson (Jenny Slate) begins making noise about how Mary is a super intelligent math genius and should be put into a gifted program.  Frank wants no part of this as he fears that what Mary will gain in brainpower she will loose in humanity/social skills.  Why become a big time egghead if you never make any friends or learn how to interact with people on a personal level?

Alas, Miss Stevenson’s meddling reaches the ears of Frank’s domineering, super bitch on steroids mother Evelyn (Lindsay Duncan) who has mad loot and can afford a big fancy lawyer to challenge Frank’s custody on the grounds that he sucks as a parent because the kid should be learning at a school for brainiacs and not at a regular school for big dumb dummies.

An emotional battle royale ensues, both in and out of the courtroom.  As a viewer, you’re torn, because part of you knows that true genius is such a rare gift that to ignore it is a sin.  On the other hand, we’ve all met that doofus who can do long division in his sleep but can’t tie his shoes.

Thus, the story is a very emotional one because both sides have a point.  Who’s right?  Maybe they both are.  Maybe no one.  You get to decide.

Chris Evans gets to shine without super tights on, proving to Hollywood he has the acting chops necessary to be put onto the Oscar path.  Meanwhile, although Jenny Slate has been in a lot of low key projects since her SNL days, this is the first film I personally have seen her where she isn’t completely goofy but rather, is a real person.  You sense the feeling that she really believed she was helping and now feels bad that she caused such a bru ha ha.

Oh, and Oscar favorite star Octavia Spencer stars as Frank’s friend/next door neighbor/Mary’s babysitter.  She’s great in this role, providing the motherly influence that Mary is sorely missing.

Oh, and McKenna herself.  The kid’s got moxie.  Here’s hoping that she heeds the movie’s advice.  Learn how to balance greatness at an early age with the need to grow up and become a normal person, not a wacko who can’t deal.  At any rate, the kid’s got a future.

However, the true star of the film is Fred the One-Eyed Cat.  He deserves a best cat actor award or at the very least, a stylish eyepatch.  “I think therefore I am Fred.”

STATUS:  Shelf-worthy.  Great date film.  Sad yet uplifting.  Asks a lot of questions about the importance of love, life, happiness, and family.  Above all, informs us that true greatness in anything often involves a great deal of sacrifice, dedication and discipline, ultimately consuming the overachiever.

In other words, being smarter than everyone else is an epically rough cross to bear.  Tell me about it.  Story of my life.

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