Stay still, Bobby. James Harden’s vision is based on movement.
“Like an Argentinian?”
No, like a T-Rex.
“Very similar. T-Rex never got over the Falklands thing, either.”
I don’t know if that’s true.
“Phil sent me a Facebook link about it.”
Still. How’d you like the game?
“It was, uh, all right. Lots of back-and-forth. Shooting, passing, all kinds of action words. Very energetic sport. Plus, basketball’s the only non-glove sport. Baseball, hockey, football: gloves. Here, there’s nothing between the players’ hands and the fans. That creates a bond.”
I guess so.
“He’s still looking at me.”
Don’t move.
“I’m not. Not a twitch, except for talking to you and eating a hot dog.”
“I’m happy to see you, too, trust me. I took the train all the way down here, and that’s how you act?”
Sorry, Nucky Thompson, semi-fictional crime boss of Atlantic City in HBO’s prohibition-era Boardwalk Empire.
“So you do have manners? That’s great.”
How can I help you, Nucky?
“What is the name of this place? The site, I mean. It has a name, right?”
Yeah. Name’s in the header box.
“Right, yeah. What is it? Could you tell me what it is? I wanna hear you say it.”
Thoughts on the Dead.
“Corpses?”
Excuse me?
“You write essays and such on deceased people? Corpses?”
No. Not the dead, the Dead. They’re a semi-defunct choogly-type band.
“Right. That title, y’see…it makes promises. One specific promise. That you’ll occasionally direct your attention, and your remarks, to the subject of the Grateful Dead. Now, I don’t go to your site, but I hear good things.”
You’re not a Deadhead. I understand.
“No, it’s not that. I live 100 years ago. We just barely figured out radio.”
Okay.
“Okay. How do we fix this problem?”
We murder Arnold Rothstein.
BUSCEMI SLAP!
Ow!
“You’ll get another if you keep being an asshole.”
Okay, okay. How about I recommend a show for the Enthusiasts’ listening pleasure?
“Why are you recommending this show? How is this a good deal?”
It’s a ’73! It’s a non-horn ’73! You literally cannot go wrong! Playing you could steal a watch to, China>Rider that speaks six languages, huge Truckin’! Enormous Truckin’, braj!
“What did you call me?”
MISTER THOMPSON!
“Better.”
This show is so heady that David Lemieux put it into a box set! Top shelf show, Nuck.
Avengers: Engarde! will be more spoiled than a gas station oyster po’boy left out in the sun and coughed on by Magic Johnson.
More spoiled than Ivanka.
More spoiled than my tum-tum after eating two pounds of popcorn, and it’s not like I didn’t know what was going to happen: every time I go to the pictures, I buy the Super Duper Jumbo Combo Snack Pack–it’s cost-effective, dontcha know–and then feel grody for hours afterwards.
Spoiled!
So, if you’re planning on seeing the flick this weekend or whenever, and don’t want to know who dies or who comes back or how much hardcore pornography there is: leave now.
(There is an almost uncomfortable amount of hardcore pornography in Avengers: Enkidu’s Revenge. I can’t believe they got Chris Evans to go that far; the man takes more cocks than a chicken thief.)
Seriously, spoilers.
Make up your minds, Enthusiasts.
I’ll provide you with some decidin’ music:
Okay, then.
You’ve been informed, and I’m assuming you’re consenting.
Here we go.
…
…
…
I have no idea what happened in Avengers: Encephalitis.
There was time traveling.
And quips.
I don’t know whether the quips came in between incidences of time travel, or vice versa; the quip-to-time travel ratio was just about even.
BUT since there were the aforementioned temporal jaunts, none of it made any sense if you thought about it for more than a second.
Or less than a second.
You really shouldn’t think about this film at all.
(Time travel is–IN RE: suspension of disbelief–almost impossible for me to swallow. Guy builds himself an armored super-suit? Sure. Evil robot wants to take over the world? Absolutely. We’re gonna go back to ten minutes before the bad guy gets theNO STOP IT SHUT THE FUCK UP.)
Anyway, the movie starts and half the world is dead.
The ramifications of this fact are not delved into.
A toe is barely dipped into the fact, honestly.
We are shown boats anchored around Liberty Island.
Why?
Dunno.
Were there zombies?
Seems like you could turn Lady Liberty’s isle into a good fortification against chompers, but we are not informed of any zombies.
Citi Field is also in ruins, but that most likely had nothing to do with Thanos.
The Mets could do that all on their own.
(FUN FACT: even with their park destroyed and half the population disappeared, the Mets were still paying off Bobby Bonilla’s contract.)
Captain America goes to a support group meeting; while there, he is supporting of homosexuality.
Robert Downey, Jr. has had a daughter.
Gwyneth Paltrow helped, but the kid clearly belongs to RDJ.
Hawkeye is now executing Yakuza members, for some reason.
He’s upgraded from the bow and arrow to a sword, and he has a fashy haircut, and that stultifying family we had to spend 20 minutes with in Avengers: Ultron Gonna Getcha is dead.
STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME CARE ABOUT MRS. HAWKEYE, MARVEL.
Oh, apropos of nothing: if you use the word “feels,” then you should kill yourself.
Right now.
Do it.
Don’t be a coward.
You used a word that irks me, and thus your life is forfeit.
EAT THE GUN, PUSSY.
Dude.
Mm-hmm?
You’re reviewing a comic book movie.
Was I being a little intense?
Little bit.
This isn’t technically a review, though.
Whatever is happening here: tone it way the fuck down, muchacho.
Gotcha.
It’s not much of a spoiler to reveal that everyone who “died” in Avengers: Intricacy Warp comes back to life.
Did you really think they were going to kill Spider-Man?
Or Black Panther?
Do you have any idea what Clarkisha Kent and the rest of Black Twitter would do if they didn’t bring back T’Challa?
Or the Disney stockholders?
Everybody comes back!
Trumpy Chris comes back, Ballyhoo Condiment comes back, the other black guys come back.
The cat came back.
We thought he was a goner, but the cat came back.
Upon the heroes’ return, there was–and you’ll be astonished at this piece of information–a grand battle in which the opposing sides ran directly at one another on an open field.
I know that I’ve said this before, but Captain America was literally in the military.
That was his rank.
Captain.
It’s not a nickname, or his nom de punch.
He should be able to come up with a better tactic than “LEEEEEEEROY JENKINS!”
(Captain Marvel was also in the military, but she was in the Air Force and I don’t think they learn about ground maneuvers beyond “When you see the enemy maneuvering on the ground, press the button that kills all of them.”)
Jesus, I’m still nauseous from the popcorn.
I’ve forgotten most of the movie already, but the snack lingers.
Anyway, the flick has three parts, each lasting around an hour:
The Moping.
Time Bandits.
It’s So Hard To Say Goodbye.
Second bit is the best: our heroes go bipping and bopping through the history of the Marvel Corporate Universe stealing Infinity Gems, and they’re inserted in scenes from the previous movies like in Back To The Future 2 (which is referenced twice by the characters) and Captain America gets to fight with himself, because if you are time traveling and meet yourself, you must fight.
Those are the rules.
And Black Widow dies.
Her and Hawkeye–and I feel we glossed over the fact that Hawkeye dealt with the trauma of losing his family in the Snapture by becoming a ninja–go to the planet that looks like Night on Bald Mountain and the Red Skull’s there.
“Either of you two Jewish?”
“Inappropriate.”
“Wow.”
He’s got the Soul Stone, right?
And he’ll give it to you if you throw a loved one off a cliff.
Those are the rules.
So Hawkeye and Black Widow start arguing over who’s gonna throw themselves off the cliff cuz they’re superduperheroes and that’s the kind of conversation those types have.
Must admit: Marvel subverted my expectations with this one, Enthusiasts.
Thought it was gonna be Hawkeye taking that doozy of a first step.
Mostly because the Black Widow solo movie has been in pre-production for months.
But she bought it, and that was sad.
She was such an important part of the MCU.
Remember that time she had a husky voice?
We’d miss you, but you won’t go away.
(You should know that for all my cynicism about Avengers: Engelberthumperdink, I’ve already found a sketchy pirate site that’s streaming a Chinese bootleg and I am planning on rewatching the movie immediately Recall, please, that your humble typist learned to read from Spidey comics, and is utterly incapable of being unbiased about these dumb flicks.)
And then there’s the big ending.
But it’s no game, this end!
World-changing events!
NOTHING WILL BE THE SAME, TRUE BELIEVER!
Because Robert Downey, Jr. is too old, and Chris Evans wants to be an artist.
So they each get their Crowning Moment of Awesome–Tony saves the universe or something, but Cap wields the mighty Mjolnir–and then they die.
It is so very sad.
An epic finale, a thrilling conclusion, the end of an era.
Spider-Man: Far From Home hits theaters July 2nd, 2019.
There’s revenge, which is for middle-aged white men in action films, and there’s testevengeria, which was when the Pope would dip his balls into hot wax to seal especially important documents, and don’t forget stonevenge, which is like Stonehenge but not quite. And then we have avenging; such behavior requires a super-suit and great hair. Assembling is also required.
AVENGERS: AGE OF ULTRON (2015) You don’t mind that I bailed on the intro, do you? We all know what what’s happening here, and I won’t slow the class down for latecomers. Besides, it’s Part 2. We’re talking about Marvel movies, so naturally we’re dealing with sequels. Would you have me do a catch-up of the catch-up? Fuck that, Charlie. Not on my watch.
Anyway, A:AoU is one of the more maligned Marvel Comicbookmovie Universe films, and rightly so: it’s bloated and patched together and we’re forced to spend twenty minutes doing chores on Hawkeye’s farm. But it does have this scene:
Which My Dinner With Andre did not.
ANT-MAN (2015) Alligators sun themselves in the mornings. Soak up them rays, heat up that blood. If it’s the right time of year, maybe they do some fucking. Middle of the afternoon, slide back into the water. Turn back around, face the land, keep them eyes peeled. If food comes around, maybe they eat.
Human beings make Ant-Man.
CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR (2016) The dirty secret of comic books is that there’s, like, half-a-dozen decent villains. Doctor Doom, Lex Luthor, Magneto, Joker. All the rest are jobbers. What the fans really want is to watch the heroes punch each other. DC tried it with Batman v. Superman, and Marvel laughed and lit cigars with million-dollar bills and flopped CA: CW onto the table; it landed with a meaty THWAMP.
“Oh, you have one superhero fighting another? Wow. HOW ABOUT EVERYONE FIGHTS EVERYBODY?”
When I was a kid, I would buy (or, more correctly, hassle my mom into purchasing for me) every Marvel action figure they made. First, when I was very young, were Megos.
The bodies were made of molded plastic and were held together by a rubber band; the heads were cheap vinyl. The boots were removable, as was the costume, so you could gang-bang ’em with the Barbies your cousin would bring over. This was Falcon, and he was my favorite. He had wings.
Then, in 1984, Marvel did a big crossover event called Secret Wars. All the big heroes and villains were transported to someplace called Battleworld–gosh, they put so much thought into it–where a nigh-omnipotent being called The Beyonder forced them to fight. The entire reason for the story was that Marvel had signed a deal with Mattel to produce a line of toys and needed a hook.
I didn’t give a shit; I bought every one from Silverman’s Stationery right there on Livingston Avenue.
It is difficult to overstate the shittiness of these figures.
This photo is a lie: the moment you removed the toy from the packaging, the paint would begin to rub off. And it’s tough to see, but Doctor Doom is wearing a bride’s garter. Keep your fetishes in Latveria, Doom.
BUT this is all there was. No super-realistic, 95-points of articulation, computer-produced “collectibles” back in 1984. Your toys had five points of articulation and clip-on claws that you lost almost immediately and they wouldn’t stand up on their own. It was fine. You laid on the floor and smashed them into each other.
For your pleasure and edification, TotD now humbly presents a fluffy piece of nonce entitled Hodor And Groot Borrow A Book From The Unseen University Library. Enjoy!
“Hodor.”
“I am Groot.”
“Ook.”
“Hodor.”
“I am Groot.”
“Ook.”
…
“Hodor.”
“I am Groot.”
“Ook.”
We thank you for your patronage.
SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING (2017) Holy shit, I love this movie so much. I would be in an abusive relationship with this movie. Emotional abuse, physical, whatever. Just stay. Don’t leave me, Spider-Man: Homecoming. You’re the only Spider-Man movie that’s any good. I’ve been with the other Spidey films, and none of them will shut the fuck up about dead uncles and Peter’s sex life. They’re not the films for me, SM: HC. I’ll never testify against you, baby.
THOR: RAGNAROK (2017) Holy shit, I might like this one even better. Thor: Ragnarok is the apotheosis of comic book movies because it is, above all, fun. It’s about a giant lummox with a hammer, who–along with his pet gorilla–fights a goth chick and a giant dog. Along the way, he and his rough trade brother visit an orgy planet. FUN.
Stop brooding, the lot of you. Oh, boo-hoo, Steve. You were trapped in ice and now your boyfriend is a Soviet assassin? Get over it. Is your boyfriend a robot, Wanda? Deal with it. Look at Ant-Man. See how he’s happy-go-lucky? Be more like Ant-Man, and stop staring into the middle distance.
BLACK PANTHER (2018) About an hour into Black Panther, I thought to myself, “Man, I haven’t seen anyone on the screen who looks like me in twenty minOOOOOHHHHHHnowIgetit.” So I get the representation angle.
(Although there aren’t any Jewish superheroes, at least not definitely. Ant-Man’s name is Scott Lang, so he might be a Jew, but none of the other heroes are Hebrews, and that’s bullshit. We really do live in Trump’s America.)
The movie, however, was fine. The movie, not the cultural bullshit surrounding it, just the text: it was fine. Effects were janky. Forest Whitaker’s eyeball was sloppy. There should be a Constitutional amendment banning kid genius characters. Also, “panthers” aren’t really a thing. Panthers aren’t their own species of big cat, just jaguars or leopards with melanism.
This world is made of lies.
AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR (2018)
Space Stone (blue): Refills any beverage the wearer is drinking, automatically and for free.
Mind Stone (yellow): May or may not make squirrels nervous.
Reality Stone (red): Name is misspelled; the gem is actually the Realty Stone, and it can find you a two-bedroom in a great neighborhood.
Power Stone (purple): Summons the ghost of Prince.
Time Stone (green): Summons the ghost of Morris Day and /or Jerome.
Soul Stone (orange): No parking tickets, ever.
ANT-MAN AND THE WASP (2018) Only thing in the world that don’t take shit is an asshole. You remember that, boy. Now go fetch up your momma and tell her t’ bring the shovel. We got another one t’ bury.
CAPTAIN MARVEL (2019) Ladies can’t be superheroes; they’ll menstruate on the capes.
Why does the black guy have to be pointing at the white guy?
“He doesn’t have to be.”
And yet he is. Why don’t you hit him with an axe handle, Bull Connor?
“Why are you like this?”
Like how? Like a non-racist? I don’t know. Some of us were born woke, man.
“Please stop it.”
I’m Josh Meyers and I make black guys point at me. That’s what you sound like.
“Mocking impressions of my voice don’t really work in print.”
YOU DON’T WORK IN PRINT, MONSTER.
“Leave me be. Please. Why won’t you leave me be to enjoy my collectible possessions and membership in exclusive dating apps?”
You were the one who wanted to be in the Grateful Dead.
“Please.”
…
You really can’t grow a beard, can you?
“Please.”
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Is it Nixon?”
Yeah.
“Has he been drinking?”
Oh, yeah.
…
“You’re on with John.”
“Get your guitar, boy. Bring it here. Your country needs you.”
“I cant join your band, Mr. President.”
“It’s this or Vietnam, boy. I, uh, have that power. It was granted to me by the founders. Brilliant men, the founders. Not one Italian in the bunch, and I think that says something. Some types need to be kept outside the room where the decisions are made. They’re too passionate for government work, but they make a hell of a shoe. By God, they make a hell of a shoe.”
“I have no idea how to respond to that.”
“You fetch your guitar and join your president, that’s how. Hearts and minds, son. Free the hearts and minds, and the, uh, ass will follow. Kissinger says that all the time, but he says it in that accent and no one knows what the hell he’s on about. Man sounds like he’s going down on a bratwurst. Anyway, get down here to Nashville. We’re at the Grand Ol’ Opry. Obviously, your friend there cannot join you.”
“Wow.”
“Not my rules. Nixon has always been a friend to the negro, in public. You may recall Sam Davis hugging me quite tightly. He is, uh, known in the business as ‘Sammy.’ Many entertainers go by those sorts of names. Johnny, Kenny, Sammy, so on. Little boys’ names. Not me. Nixon has always been a Dick.”
…
“I’m just gonna let that one go by, Mr. President.”
“Yes, yes, fine. Do you know The Chattahoochie Stomp?”
“No.”
“What about Momma’s In The Kitchen, Daddy’s In The Ground?”
“No.”
“You’ll pick it up. Get here or the next call comes from the IRS.”
Women–hot ones, with perfect titty-balls and asses that went woobblewobblewobble when struck (consensually) with a belt–would line up to blow these dudes. Sometimes, the women would blow other, uglier, men to get to these paragons of masculinity. Your dongs, the women would wail; We need them!
What I’m saying is that you should learn how to play guitar.
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