Whatever happened to liberty? What happened to freedom? What happened to the pursuit of happiness in this country, i.e. money off the backs of the less fortunate?
Recently, those pinko commies over at the EPA banned the last form of asbestos widely used in the United States. You’re probably thinking “Wait, they’re just banning it NOW, when so many landlords still rely on asbestos to insulate the homes their tenant families live in?!” Well believe it or not, yes.
First, they came for our lead paint, and I said nothing because those policies went virtually unenforced. Then, they came for our lead piping, and again, I said nothing, because they didn’t really do it. Now they’re coming for the asbestos in all of the buildings I own? And they’re like, for real going to do it?! Bread lines and concentration camps are right around the corner.
Are we just supposed to ignore all the good asbestos has done for us? I’m not just thinking about myself here, I’m thinking about my poor occupants! Take the single-family Clark Street property I am illegally renting as three separate apartments. Without the asbestos insulating those drop ceiling tiles, they would probably freeze to death come winter! The whole building is heated by a single unit on the first floor and the electricity can’t handle space heaters, so they are going to have to rely on beautiful asbestos, or else the city might catch on to my scheme.
What about my elderly tenants? I’m supposed to tell them they need to find somewhere else to stay for a few weeks while jack-booted government thugs come and remove their insulation? Half of them are already dealing with mesothelioma, I don’t want to pile on!
We need to take a stand against this absurd governmental interference of private property. Removing asbestos from the properties I own would not only be impractically expensive, but it’s a slippery slope toward my tenants becoming strong and healthy enough to stage an uprising. Speaking of which, have they banned TikTok yet? I don’t like how that app gives the poors a platform.
I thought the spicy, cheesy aroma emanating from my beard this week was due to all of the ass I’ve been eating. Turns out there was a tiny splotch of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos Dust tucked under my mustache! This was a tasty surprise but it’s not much food when you compare it to a hearty tossed salad. Sorry Chester Cheetah. I have to rank this dead last.
Money is always cool, but the economy is a smoldering dumpster fire and a few bucks won’t get me very far. Plus it’s mostly pennies, so now I have to choose between rolling these coins up for my bank or getting fucked over by Coinstar fees. Wonderful.
I may need to comb my beard more thoroughly because I haven’t worn this mask since the beginning of COVID. Yeah, yeah, I know I should be wearing one when I’m sick. But waterboarding myself with my own snot and beard hair kinda sucks. Still, this is a cool little memento. A tangible reminder that I survived another global crisis and remain unkillable.
I always wanted one of these things growing up. But after wearing it all week I can safely say mood rings are a piece of junk. Why? Because according to this ring I’ve been teetering between nervous and horny all week. That’s a lie. I have one mood. And it’s a rude, crude mood.
While brushing out my beard I caught a glimpse of my very own chin. It was nice seeing that little guy, but he knows damn well why he rarely sees the light of day. He’s weak, he’s puny, and he disgusts me. I told him goodbye forever and this time I mean it.
Why do these things always disappear? Once you put ‘em down they’re impossible to find. If you’re bearded like me though, I highly recommend checking your facial hair. That’s where they wind up 90% of the time. Good thing too! Because I can’t shred without a pick. I’ll do just about anything to become a rock star but callused fingers are where I draw the line.
Uh… I have no idea how this got here. This brush is NOT mine, because I do NOT dye my beard. I have ZERO gray hairs and anyone who tells you otherwise is a dirty liar. I’m going to keep this because it’s a nice brush and NOT because I’ll dye my beard with it. Capiche?
My missing budgie ParaKeeth Morris has been found in my beard and he is alive and well. I’m used to him flying off and doing his own thing, but I thought he might be gone for good this time. I’m thrilled he’s okay but now I have to buy more bird food. This is a mixed bag.
The beautiful thing about a butterfly knife is that you almost never have to actually stab someone with it. Any criminal dumb enough to attack a badass twirling this thing will get what’s coming to them. As soon as I figure out how to open it without cutting myself I’ll get around to the badass twirling part.
Too cool! No matter how many times I smash the big end with a hammer it doesn’t break! I watched a long YouTube video that explains how this scientific miracle is possible, but honestly I’d prefer a tutorial on how to finagle this bad boy into a pipe.
People say these things are unhealthy but I’ve been eating them for 35 years and I’m still alive. This unfortunately is the inferior ham and American cracker stackers variety. If this was the pizza & treatza kind where you get to slather chocolate sauce and M&M’s on a pizza crust? This would have easily been top 10. Oh well.
We all know sunglasses are cool. Tom Cruise taught us that in “Top Gun.” But sunglasses look extra cool on a guy with a big beard. When people can’t see the lower half of your face or your eyes, you become a stoic man of mystery. Throw in a big hat and everyone thinks you’re the guy from ZZ Top. What’s not to love?
To the untrained eye this might just look like an acrylic contact juggling ball. Well this is way different. This is Fushigi. It’s magic. It’s intimate. It defies gravity. This isn’t just cool, it’s a lifestyle. So why isn’t this higher up on the list? Because I dropped it on my foot and this thing weighs like 10 pounds for some reason. I’m in so much pain.
Without a doubt, Spencer’s is the go-to place for all things that are cool and classy. And this black light poster of a forest full of mushrooms will be a delightfully trippy addition to my room. I’ve decided I’ll hang it up right next to my beaded curtain and directly across from my tie-dye water bed. Goddamn I’m cool.
For an aging cool person like myself, tech decks are a lifesaver. The harsh reality I face is that I can no longer shred without fear of shattering both kneecaps. A tiny finger skateboard is the only realistic option I have left. These things are fucking rad though, and I’d like to think everyone at the skate park thinks I’m rad too when I crawl alongside them doing finger ollies.
The phrase “I expect better from WWE Studios” sounds inherently stupid until you watch this garbage. Whoever wrote this thing (we won’t even dignify them with a check on IMDB,) has clearly never seen a Leprechaun movie or maybe even heard of the mythological creature. If you’ve ever watched the Boston Celtics on television you have officially done more research than the writer of “Leprechaun: Origins.” The Leprechaun is not a naked Golem with sharper teeth, he doesn’t have Predator vision, he is not mute, and he doesn’t kill people just for having gold on their person. He’s from Ireland. They got that right. That’s about it.
2003 just wasn’t a good year for, well, anything. Not even historically accurate to the first “Leprechaun in the Hood” movie. This is basically a made-for-cable melodrama morality play with the Leprechaun sort of sprinkled in. It does get a few things right. According to lore, Leprechauns do bleed tiny CGI yellow bubbles. Leprechauns and psychics are fierce adversaries. You can make a lot of money selling just weed at basketball courts, like enough to warrant armed security. Outside of that, wildly inaccurate.
Though ignoring the events of “Leprechaun 2” through “Leprechaun in the Hood,” which scholars now maintain to be mostly accurate, this movie makes an earnest attempt to capture the spirit of the real-life Leprechaun. Despite the absence of noted Leprechaun reenactor Warwick Davis, it’s quite possibly the most historically accurate Sci-Fi Original Movie since “Swamp Shark,” and we do not say that lightly.
The first attempt to bring the story of the Leprechaun to the big screen was a bit uneven, but there’s a lot they got right. The Leprechaun really did spend ten years trapped in a wooden box, though it was oak, not cedar as shown in the film. The Leprechaun’s penchant for quickly assembling little murder gocarts comes directly from Celtic folklore, and he is indeed a foot fetishist. Scholars now believe there really was a Jennifer Aniston, though speculate that she could act better than what we see in the film.
The sequel showcases a far more accurate depiction of Ireland’s favorite murderous imp than its predecessor. It reflects our modern understanding that the Leprechaun’s magic can pretty much do anything as long as it’s funny and/or bloody, provided that it keeps the plot moving. His gocart-building abilities, which were depicted as rudimentary in the first film, are more accurately shown to be advanced. There are flame decals, skull adornments over the headlights, and even a little crossed-out clover on the hood.
In this ambitious straight-to-video offering, filmmaker Rob Spera attempts to answer the burning question “Where do the origins of LA gangster rap and the mythos of the Leprechaun intersect?” The result is one of the most true-to-life depictions of both subjects ever captured on film. The golden flute Ice-T used to make “Cop Killer” a hit is featured prominently, as is the Leprechaun’s penchant for cannabis and fly girls. Though a controversial view at the time, modern biblical scholars are now, for the most part, in consensus that Jesus’s disciples were indeed some bad mofos’. There really was a Coolio, and from time to time he would just randomly show up places and not say anything.
How can a film set in the future be historically accurate? When it perfectly extrapolates our modern culture and predicts things that are sure to pass. Everything about our modern times, our environmental crisis, our global political conflict, and our dwindling resources, all of it brings us closer and closer to Leprechaun in space every day. If we don’t act now, eventually we will all be space marines like in “Aliens,” except our spaceships will be crude CGI and below escape room quality sets. If we can’t find a way to heal the divide in our own country, how will we prevent the Leprechaun from abducting and marrying a space princess who takes her top off for no reason?
The Leprechaun has had a long and storied life, and encapsulating it fully into a single 90-minute film just isn’t possible. When covering a subject so prolific, sometimes it’s best to focus on a single period of their lives rather than the whole picture, and that’s exactly what the makers of “Leprechaun 3” did. The film focuses exclusively on the Leprechaun’s infamous Vegas period. It’s all here. His competitive friendship with Elvis, his proclivity for making asses so big they explode, his tendency to get drunk and turn other people into leprechauns by biting them, this unflinching portrait pulls no punches. Even the set design is period perfect, right down to the 1st gen desktop computers that came loaded with animated slideshows about leprechauns and how to destroy them.