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“What I wouldn’t have given to smell his finger.” – Noted Blogger Bookshelf Q. Battler on the crushing loss of the notorious ladies’ man, Burt Reynolds.
Hey 3.5 readers.
As all 3.5 of you know, I am in a funk most of the time. But one of the things that legitimately has me bummed lately is the death of noted tough guy actor and legendary poonsmith Burt Reynolds, tragically dead too young at the age of 81. Oh, what more great movies he could have made. Oh, what more foxy ladies he could have pleasured. Why God, why? Surely he deserved to live to be 100.
Now, I don’t know the exact figures, but here are some rough estimates of some BR related figures:
Number of Ladies He Pleasured: 9,091 (that’s just with his mustache when he gave free stache rides. Most mathematicians are in agreement that the amount of vag he got busy with is incalculable by modern metrics.)
Number of Honest to God Legit Roles That Could Have Gotten Him An Oscar That He Turned Down to Do More Car Race Movies – 10,025. Well, probably not that many. OK, that’s a little high. I only know of one. He turned down the Jack Nicholson role to do “Stroker Ace” about a NASCAR driver and Jack went on to win the Oscar but damn it, Burt loved him some car chase movies.
Number of Car Chase Movies He Made – Roughly 40 million.
Anyway, like most artists, you don’t realize what you had until it’s gone and damn it, Burt was a macho, manly son of a bitch that you just don’t see around anymore, thank you, feminists. Thanks a lot. Shit. I’m going to grow out a feather duster on my lip right now in protest of Amazonian masterhood.
Whenever I get a chance, I’m going to wow you with some Burt posts and when I have some free time to relax, I’m going to watch some of Burt’s greatest hits and review them for you, because, and listen men, I really men this, we have got to get our balls out of the mason jars that the womenfolk have put them in and be manly men again.
Do you have a favorite Burt movie? Discuss in the comments.
Have you ever experienced deja vu, 3.5 readers?
Oh, and by the way, have you ever experienced deja vu?
BQB here with a review of the classic comedy, “Groundhog Day.” SPOILERS ABOUND.
Bill Murray plays Phil, an arrogant, self-absorbed Pittsburg weatherman who can’t contain his disdain for local television, phoning it in until, he hopes, a job at a national channel will save him. He openly mocks his job, his life, and all around him, never taking a moment to appreciate what he does have.
On one fateful day, Phil is assigned to cover the Punxatawney Phil ceremony, where a groundhog is pulled out of its hole and according to legend, if it sees its shadow, then there will be six more weeks of winter. This is the ultimate contemptible assignment for Weatherman Phil, who despises the idea of thousands of yokels dancing around in the cold to see a rat get yanked out of a cave.
Accompanying Phil are his goofy cameraman, Chris Elliot, and his producer/love interest, Andie MacDowell, a perpetually happy woman who always sees the bright side in everything, truly Phil’s foil.
Phil can’t wait to get out of this hick town but alas, every day he wakes up and it is Groundhog Day over and over and over again. Why? It’s never explained. He’s just stuck in an infinite loop, destined to live the same day for eternity.
How many Groundhog days does Phil experience? One can never be sure, but it has got to be in the thousands at least. This is truly an experimental film that was ahead of its time as the timeline is manipulated to comedic effect.
Phil’s reaction to his plight ranges from depression (he kills himself repeatedly only to wake up safe and sound with Sonny and Cher on the radio again and again), to greed (robbing an armored car without consequence) to lust (he questions babes about the most intimate details of their lives, then meets them fresh the next day and presents their interests as his, making them believe they’ve found their soul mate so they’ll offer instant nookie.)
Are there any lessons to be learned? Yes. When you are stuck in a rut, you have to do a lot of work to dig yourself out of that hole. Phil lives the same day over and over, really, for years. He makes mistakes. He learns lessons. Ultimately, when he uses his repeated day to better himself (take piano lessons) and to be kind to others (he starts spending his days finding out about the townsfolk’s problems) he finally lives one great, amazing day, spent helping the local yokels all day, only to tickle the ivories at night, impressing his lady love with his musical talent while the locals regale her with stories of Phil’s kindness.
Improve yourself. Be kind to others and they will tell tales of your goodness, tales that will reach someone you want to impress. This seems to be the name of the game and if only we could compact that work into one day that we get to live for years before we learn the lessons and then get to start fresh the next day. Unfortunately, when we are stuck in a rut, we must learn those lessons, obtain those skills, do those acts of kindness for years before they pay off, we may get old and croak before any of our hard work goes noticed.
So, the name of the game is start early. Funny, I saw this movie as a kid and didn’t heed its warnings. Today, I feel like Phil, stuck in a rut, turning people off with my constant mockery of everything, unable to find the time needed to improve my life and impress people.
I need a Groundhog Day! Come on, Sonny and Cher. Get on my radio!
It’s hard to believe this was so long ago. Two, two term presidents have come and gone and a third has been elected already.
I’m not sure the young’uns out there really get it. We older people look at history as pre and post 9/11. Sometimes I watch old movies or just even think about the 1990s and think wow, what a happy go lucky time.
I was a tail end Gen X er. I remember the big complaint of the older people at the time was that everything was too good and there were no wars to contend with so we had all gotten too soft…and the alternate rock of the day reflected that – i.e. we’re so depressed our generation doesn’t have any meaning unlike our parents who had Vietnam and our grandparents who had WWII.
And then 9/11 happened and I think looking back, it was silly that everyone thought that times being good was a bad thing. Because now it looks like we’ll never see a peace time again, at least not in our lifetimes.
It was the beginning of a lot of this political division. Reps and Dems came together in the aftermath, but in the years thereafter, they really disagreed on the war of terror and that led to disagreements elsewhere.
And I do think it had longterm bad effects on the economy. Economic wise, the 1990s were pretty good. Papa Bush showed off America’s muscle in a quick, get in get out Iraq War and then thereafter, the 1990s were mostly peaceful.
Imagine the economy today if we’d just had 30 years of peace?
Oh well. I remember when it happened. I was fresh out of college, sad my life didnt seem to be working out as planned and then, in retrospect, selfishly I said well, now it really won’t get better and it didn’t.
OK yes I know. I just made 9/11 about me. That wasn’t my intent. Who knows what to say? It sucked.
My eyes! What have I seen? God, help me!
BQB here with a review of Netflix’s Paradise PD.
There’s a part of me that says the master print of this show should be burned, the ashes dissolved in acid, the remnants of whatever is left put into a rocket to be shot into the sun. It’s that gross and I don’t know why, there’s just something about seeing cartoon animated disgustingness that makes me feel like my soul was warped upon seeing it. There are scenes that haven’t left me feeling this weirded out since I saw Sausage Party, which, although I laughed at, I pledged I’d never see it ever again and to date, I never have.
On the other hand, I haven’t had such a good laugh in so long. It’s hilarious – rapid fire jokes upon jokes upon jokes, jokes that are quick, jokes that you get right away, jokes that you get after you think about it after a minute.
Even better? It pulls no punches. It takes no sides. It whams, bams, and slams everyone and everything. It is an equal opportunity offender to one and all. If you haven’t been offended within the first five minutes, give it another five. Don’t worry. They will eventually get to something that offends you.
Ironically, that’s what unbiased comedy is. When comedians savage one side, one group, one idea, then leave the opposite untouched, it’s biased. We see that in comedy today when it comes to politics. Comedians have their sacred political cows and they won’t touch certain topics with a ten foot pole.
Here, liberals and conservatives are parodied with equal vigor. There’s a particularly funny episode that skewers the cable news channels – CNN, MSNBC and FOX, how they feature knee jerk commentators who skew things to fit their agenda.
I laughed. I laughed. I laughed some more. Still, there’s something about seeing a cartoon penis that seems wrong, even in a cartoon that is intended by adults, and by the way, please, I don’t care if this is a cartoon, if you kid tries to watch this show, please do whatever it takes to stop them from watching it, even if you have to take an axe to the television.
The set up? Kevin is a loser who ends up as a police officer under the command of his constantly angry police chief father, in the town of Paradise. There’s the super fat Dusty, the disgusting Hobo Cop (a hobo turned cop), the walking poster for police brutality Gina, the elderly Hopson (owner of the cartoon penis the sight of which makes me want to power wash my eyeballs), the drug addled police dog Bullet and Fitz, the African American cop who, in one wacky episode, accidentally shoots himself in the penis and then gets arrested for committing police brutality against a black man, i.e. himself.
Part of me wants to apologize to Jesus for recommending this. Part of me appreciates the good laughs it gave me as I watched it the past week.
The best description is that it is basically what you might imagine if Family Guy were able to take the freak outs that it does now but then crank it up to 1,000 with no holds barred.
Honestly, there should be some holds barred. It’s funny, but I hope this doesn’t mean we’re moving toward a future where all cartoons meant for adults end up this disgusting.
I can’t give it a shelf-worthy rating. I also can’t not give it one. See it if you want to laugh and laugh heartily. Don’t see it if you are easily offended, feint of heart, or if you just believe in common standards of decency…which I do, so why I watched this I don’t know.
Hey 3.5 readers.
Unless you’re old like me, you probably don’t even know who he is.
And honestly, even if you’re my age, you probably didn’t know his name. All these years, I just knew him as “The Guy Who Played Dr. Huxtable’s Son-in-Law” on The Cosby Show.
Recently, Owens was spotted working at a Trader Joe’s in New Jersey. A photo was snapped of him with a gray beard and a Trader Joe’s name tag and cue the media nonsense that he’s a loser because he once appeared on a TV show and now he’s bagging groceries.
My first reaction is this sucks. What’s that old saying? “The best laid plans of mice and men…”
In other words, you pursue your dreams, but you also have to take what life gives you. Sometimes that’s a role on a popular TV show you’re young. Sometimes that’s ringing up produce when you’re older.
Look at what often happens to young celebrities. They’re on a hit TV show when they are young. Then that show ends and they assume they’ve made it. The roles will come in, the money will come in but then, boom, for whatever reason, nothing.
Often, all this means is that people loved that person in this one role, but another good role was never found. These young celebs often end up turning to drugs and alcohol. The idea of finding a straight job ends up feeling like something to be ashamed of. Worse, if you’re still hoping for more acting work, rumors that you’re working a menial job probably don’t help.
So it sounds like one big crazy cycle of crap.
I can’t think of their names, but the actors who played Chunk on the Goonies and Paul on the Wonder Years strike me as good examples of young actors who knew when to hold em and knew when to fold em. Both got out of acting and became lawyers. Both understood that success in one role didn’t mean a ticket to stardom. Both found something else to do.
In short, there was nothing wrong with Owens bagging groceries. Really, what’s wrong with it?
Just talking about all actors in general, if you find that acting work isn’t coming your way, why not get a regular job? Maybe you saved a lot of money from your acting days. So what? Get a job at a supermarket because, dude, seriously, what else are you going to do? Sit on the couch?
Maybe you didn’t save your money, maybe you didn’t make as much as the public thinks you did, or maybe you were very responsible and careful with your money but dude, come on, money made decades ago won’t last forever….whatever. Who cares? If you’ve got the time and the acting gods aren’t being kind, then there’s nothing wrong with doing something else.
I guess what I’m saying is be nice to celebrities who get day jobs. If you go through the drive-thru one day and spot an actor from a TV show you liked years ago, just smile and move on.
And hell, the economy isn’t what it used to be. There just aren’t enough resources for everyone’s dreams and goals to pan out. That guy who went to law school and is now bringing you your pancakes doesn’t need your disdain. That dude who was a multimillionaire stock broker and is now cleaning your toilet doesn’t need your scoffery.
People have to make livings. People have to keep their time occupied with productive work. High levels of success aren’t always sustainable so don’t give people crap for doing what they have to do to keep bills paid.
Really, the only time you’ve lost is if you’re capable of doing work and yet you lay down, give up, crack open the bottle, and let all the naysayers keep you down.
And the good news is that Owens got a part in a Tyler Perry TV show though, I mean, just throwing it out there, it is a Tyler Perry TV show so, not gonna lie, a career at Trader Joe’s probably has longer lasting prospects.
Zing! Sorry. Can’t help myself. No wonder this blog only has 3.5 readers.
It’s Deathwish with Tits!
BQB here with a review of the vigilante justice film, Peppermint.
Jennifer Garner is one bad mother in this flick, 3.5 readers. (SPOILERS)
In the early 2010s, life is good for Riley North. She’s got the typical lower middle class lifestyle. She and her husband have jobs that are a grind but they get by. They have a cute daughter, the works.
Alas, all this goes FUBAR when criminals gun down daughter and husband, only to leave J-Gar wounded.
Feeling defeated after the hoodlums go unpunished, Riley goes underground. She travels the world. She trains. She fights. She learns hand to hand combat. She learns how to shoot. How to survive.
And then she brings all that planning back to the US, where she unleashes a fat can of whoop-ass on all her done her wrong.
Admittedly, the movie starts off a little hokey. The whole part where the justice system fails Riley seems like it was written by a high schooler with a low level understanding of the law, although, if the writers had delved deeper into the legal wranglings, it would have put us to sleep, so I take back my criticism.
At any rate, this is one of those movies that makes you sad in the beginning, then makes you roll your eyes a bit at the hokey-ness, but then…damn. Just…holy crap. Jennifer Garner may have slowed down since her Alias days, but she is back, kicking ass and taking names.
Hell, I’m going to predict right here and right now that this movie is J-Gar’s “Taken” moment. Remember 2010? Liam Neeson was on his way to obscurity then he did a movie about a man with a particular set of skills and now he’s an action movie extraordinaire?
I think…or at least I hope, that’s what happens for Jen here. Fuck those Capital One commercials. J-Gar doesn’t need to ask what’s in your wallet anymore. That badass bitch can just take your wallet and make you thank her for doing so.
If you can sit through some early writing hackery, it gets good. So good. So fun to watch as she hunts everyone down, literally everyone, like all the bad guys, anyone who has ever helped the bad guys, everyone who like, ever gave the bad guys a cookie, even the lawyers and judge and other corrupt officials who helped the bad guys get off on a technicality.
She slices. She dices. She juliennes. She blows shit up. She blows people up. She shoots. She scores. She wracks up a body count that would make Charles Bronson blush.
And that’s what this film basically is. Deathwish with Tits. Honestly, if I had been the studio exec on this one, that’s what I would have called this. “Deathwish with Tits.” “Peppermint” is ok, but really, it’s misleading. Someone who just glances at the marquee might think the movie is about a tasty yuletide treat and not a mother’s last good memory of her daughter who happened to be eating peppermint ice cream when evil criminals did their evil criminal deeds.
Sure, there’s room to poke fun. Jennifer Garner is a hot chick and also, a dignified chick. She’s a proper lady, damn it. She’s always carried herself with poise and class. Thus, at times, she gets messed up while she’s living on the mean streets, so that means, in J-Gar’s world that like, a few hairs are out of place, and you know she brushed the shit out of those hairs as soon as the film was in the can.
Maybe there’s a market these days for vigilante justice movies, I don’t know. Bruce Willis’ Deathwish remake from earlier this year was universally panned, though loved by this writer, but then again, I love vigilante justice movies.
I suppose there’s a PC argument against this movie. It’s two hours of a white lady slaughtering impoverished latinos but then again, the universal standard of right and wrong is at play. In other words, it’s made clear these particular and only these particular latinos did bad and there are other latinos and minorities and people of all races and colors and backgrounds who, from behind the scenes, try to help the woman they refer to as an “angel.” Yes, rich and poor alike watch the mayhem ensue on social media and cheer the angel along and come to her aid once in awhile.
Still, I’d love it if we could flip the script. Someone should make a vigilante justice movie where a black character loses his or her family and then shoots down anyone who participated in the evildoery. Hell, I cheered for Gabby Union when she was kicking the ass of white dudes who were trying to rob and kill her family in “Breaking In,” just as I cheered for J-Gar here.
You know what? Forget it. I shouldn’t have even brought up race. Maybe the SJWs are brainwashing me. Who knows?
Point is, September is a month where Hollywood’s crappiest movies come out, well, not as bad as January, but still, after summer, you can’t hope for much fun at the box office until November. This movie was a surprise.
SIDENOTE: There’s a scene where, to show J-Gar is losing focus on taking care of herself and putting her life into her mission, she eats a meal consisting of a swig of vodka and an unwrapped cupcake. That’s how hot Hollywood actresses slum it, apparently. Me? That’s just Monday morning breakfast at BQB HQ.
I had the weirdest dream last night. It was weird both in content and also how the brain can make up these weird stories. I don’t understand how the brain is basically able to write, cast and produce a movie in your head that it plays inside your brain while you are sleeping.
So here’s the dream. There was a woman in my neighborhood, she was never given a name, but my brain cast Australian rapper Iggy Azalea to play her in my mind. Keep in mind this wasn’t Iggy playing herself as a cameo or anything. It was just a nameless woman.
There is a party at my house. Why? I don’t know. In reality, I’ve never had enough people who like me enough to all congregate at my house at one time for the purpose of enjoying my company. Hell, I don’t even want to enjoy my company.
By the way, none of the people at the party I recognized. My brain just filled the background with randos.
At the party, the woman played by Iggy cries. She explains she is under a lot of pressure because her husband has gone missing and the media is doing sensational stories that imply that she whacked him. The TV is on and talking about how she probably did him in. Weirdly, the brain fills in gaps…like I can’t remember what the TV said or who on the TV said it, just a general sense that the woman was being accused on TV.
I go to the kitchen and the woman follows me. She asks if she can see my bed. Sigh. Even in my dreams I have zero confidence and so I assume that a woman asking to see my bed has an ulterior motive.
I tell her no but the woman starts crying and gets upset. She tells me she really wants to see my bed. I keep saying no.
At this point, I’m not sure if my brain is a hack writer, but either everyone at the party has left or they just disappear. The woman is getting upset. She really wants to see my bed.
Perplexed, I go to my bed. She does not come with me. What could she have wanted to see?
I look around the surface of the bed. Nothing.
I look around the room. Nothing.
I lift up the bed. Her husband’s dead body is wrapped up in a sheet under my bed!
I confront the woman and ask her if she killed her husband and put his body under my bed. She says no. I don’t believe her. I am scared of her now. I tell her I’m calling 911 and she asks me not to. I grab a frying pan and somehow I am able to keep her at bay with it. I just hold the frying pan at arm’s length and this keeps her from coming near me.
I tell the 911 operator the whole story, how my neighbor is a woman accused on TV of killing her husband and that she kept asking to see my bed and so I went to the bed and found her dead husband underneath. As I do so, the woman keeps asking me to stop talking to 911 because she didn’t do it.
The police come and take the body away. For the rest of the dream, I start defending myself on a TV news show, I never see the host, just myself on the screen, and apparently my brain has made an assumption that people are accusing me of helping the wife hide the body.
The host asks me didn’t I ever smell the body and I say no I never did. This is probably again my brain being a hack writer.
The host asks why do I think people are accusing me of being in on it and I tell the host well, I’m a really ugly looking person and so people automatically assume that ugly people are bad, but I wasn’t in on the husband murder or the cover up and honestly, if I was, why would I have called the police to tell them about the body under my bed?
Sigh. Even in my dream I’m aware how ugly I am and the biases people have against me as an ugly person.
At that point I wake up and that’s the end of the dream. My brain did leave some plot holes, but still, it’s crazy how in a dream, the mind can come up with an elaborate story. What was the point of all that? Why did my brain make that story happen? What series of brain cells start firing to make this little inner brain movie happen?
Also, why couldn’t it have been a happier dream? Why couldn’t the woman played by Iggy Azalea have just come over to bang me and live happily ever after? Why did there have to be a dead husband? Why did I have to be falsely accused?
Clearly, my brain knows my life is shit. Ergo, if my brain puts a hot chick at my party, she can only be there as part of an elaborate rouse to frame me for murder and not just because like she wants my junk. My unconscious brain is literally able to do the calculations in my sleep necessary to conclude that the woman would never be there just to like me and shit.
Oh brain. What little esteem you hold me in.
Feel free to discuss what you think my brain was trying to tell me in the comments.