What to Read: Cantankerous never seemed cooler.
What to Watch/Listen to:
Original content tomorrow.
What to Read: Cantankerous never seemed cooler.
What to Watch/Listen to:
Original content tomorrow.
It’s fascinating to see what blurbs marketers use to accompany a trailer for a movie’s advertisement. A reputable film critic’s blurbs are splattered over advertisements for movies up for major awards. A series of tweets from BignHot69 lauds the work of “Madea Goes to the Optometrist.”
The blurbs aren’t the end-all be-all to convince people whether to see a film, but it seemed somewhat strange that a blurb from Bill Simmons accompanied an advertisement of “Lone Survivor.” The collided worlds signaled an epiphany. If Simmons was deemed competent enough to speak on the merits of “Lone Survivor” then other personalities in sports media have probably done the same. So, in the spirit of some television-detective work, I unearthed (or created, depending on how gullible you are) quotes from other personalities in the world of sports in reference to movies they’ve seen.
What follows are quotes left off of advertisements for the movie they reviewed.
“You got this guy, this doctor guy, and his wife, heh, heh, heh, he drops her off at home. And boom! Some man with a mechanical arm ends up killing her. And this doctor, he’s charged with murder! I mean, murder, not larceny or loan sharking, but murder! So he’s on this bus and this bus goes whack! Whack with a train. He’s out on the lamb and he tries to find his wife’s killer while eluding the cops and guys with guns. It’s great.”-John Madden on “The Fugitive”
“Hello friends, the picturesque Midwestern landscape provides the perfect backdrop as the hard-driving Neal Page tries to make it home for a blissful Thanksgiving with his family. The only problem, and it’s one with some girth, is weather hazards, long a great accoutrement to any story line and Del Griffith, the rosy-cheeked, mustachioed shower curtain ring salesman. Watch as Page and Griffith traipse from one beautiful slice of America to another in attempts to make it to Chicago for Thanksgiving.”-Jim Nantz on “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.”
“So there’s this little (expletive deleted), who I love, the kid’s a real piece of (expletive deleted) and his stupid (expletive deleted) parents, who are your typical suburban white bread (expletive deleted) forget about the kid, you know the little (expletive deleted), who I love, when they take their ugly, boring (expletive deleted) family to visit some relative in God knows what awful foreign (expletive deleted) country which no real man would ever want to visit. I liked the (expletive deleted) movie, the guy with the shovel could beat the (expletive deleted) out of Boog Powell, he’s that (expletive deleted) quick with that thing.”- Earl Weaver on “Home Alone.”
“The sanctity of marriage in all of its wonderfulness gets turned on its head in a remarkable, breathtaking, awe inspiring manner by the grace of Steve Martin and Diane Keaton, and the spine-tingling quirkiness of Martin Short. I had so much fun I might want to get married again, a thousand times. Life is grand.”- Bill Walton on “Father of the Bride.”
“People want to call him Lord and Savior, but is he really any better than Peter, Paul, or even Simon, the guy who helped him carry the cross? I don’t think enough people talk about how Pontius Pilate was the real leader in the movie. You saw how he condemned Jesus to death? He’s the one in charge, not Jesus. Jesus seemed too all-powerful in the film, too all-knowing. What is he, the son of God? He’s a product of the hype machine. He’s certainly no leader, just like LeBron.”-Skip Bayless on “The Passion of the Christ.”
“The heart of Rock and Roll may be in Cleveland, as Huey Lewis sang, but the heart of tires and soul is in Sandusky, Ohio. Watch Chris Farley and David Spade navigate the changes in a company where as the Who says, the old boss is like the new boss and they hilariously try to save their jobs and the jobs of hundreds of others. Operator, can you help me place this call, as Jim Croce sang, because they’re dialing up laughter by the minutes. The movie gives you something more, more than a feeling, as Boston sang.”- Chris Berman on “Tommy Boy.”
What to Read: How Tony became Tony.
What to Watch: So the league is about the running game after this weekend?
What to Listen to:
Original content tomorrow.
I need help. The first sentence should not send a pack of do-gooders into the apartment and remove belts, sharp objects, pills, and alcoholic beverages from the premises. I need football help. I’ve become one of the people I regularly deplore for their perspective on professional sports.
Before the couch session drifts towards some unsettling experience from youth, let me state that I can co-exist perfectly fine with people I don’t care for. In the professional setting tensions are eased by pretending to be on the telephone when you hear the wretched party on their way down the hallway. At large social gatherings, it’s about the quick hello to the individual before you ramble some version of “bathroom, help with the food, be right back.” The pettiness of each act is entirely juvenile, hardly justified, but they’re decent coping mechanisms instead of the terminal alternative of “go (expletive deleted) yourself.”
In terms of rooting interest it is near-impossible to like the entire team in a particular sport. Every time you want to pinch Ronnie Brewer’s cheeks, Joakim Noah emits some guttural scream that in a way loosens your desire to see the team win. Results matter, to hell with likeability. We root for the actions and the performance of the athletes on the field, not their ability to market batteries or tag less underwear.
So we’re all on the same page? Good.
Now it’s going to get a little sticky. My logic is flawed and delusional all at the same time.
Jay Cutler himself makes me hate the new contract he received from the Bears.
It’s not just him, Jay the person. It’s a confluence of things, but it’s mainly Jay the person.
First, the supplemental reasons, meaning the nagging injuries that follow him. Cutler has missed 13 games since he was traded. Most are bad-luck stuff, from the broken thumb to the ankle, but his inability to stay healthy unsettles me.
There’s the offensive inefficiency. Cutler, not to his fault, again, has worked with a number of offensive coordinators in Chicago, from the egoist to the clueless and every variation in between. He’s suffered from a lack of continuity.
So I understand that the benefit of the doubt needs to be directed towards him. I understand that he gives the Bears the best chance to win. Even with an old and creaky defense, a turnaround is not out of the question. I understand the athletic ability, the toughness, the stabilization he lends to a position that before his arrival served as a favorite graphic of Fox whenever they played the Packers is paramount to a team’s success. (Side note: did you know the Bears started the equivalent of the entire population of Rock Island at the quarterback position during Brett Favre’s tenure with the Packers?) I also understand the talent of the skill players that surround him on offense. Jay finally has buddies who can catch the ball. He has a coach who built a professional offense. He has all these things going for him, but I keep drifting back to the fact that I don’t like Cutler.
The hipster doofus routine is hackneyed and trite. He’s just too interested in life to answer questions he doesn’t deem worthy of an articulate response. I can’t endure any more of the entire Cutler experience and it goes against my better football judgment.
Maybe it’s Cutler fatigue, maybe he’s wrongfully linked to the inept offenses that he mucked his way through in the majority of his time in Chicago. Maybe I thought he was the long-awaited stability at a house-of-cards position for a franchise known for running backs and linebackers, which is a real recipe for success if only Amos Stagg patrolled the sidelines.
So I don’t get it, I don’t know how to explain it, I don’t like the Cutler deal primarily because I don’t like Cutler and don’t want to endure another year of him as a human being. No more press conferences, no more shots of him in the huddle, him speaking with a referee or him celebrating a touchdown or downtrodden after an interception.Jay Cutler the person has forced me to dislike Jay Cutler the football player.
It doesn’t make sense, but I see how sports are easier to digest when the interpreters fail to use logic. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to consume some Ditka All-American Red Wine and listen to “The Grabowski Shuffle” on repeat.
What to Read: The Boss,placed in his proper context.
What to Watch:
What to Listen to: Aw hell, let’s complete the sweep.
I really enjoy “Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee.” With each season the number of interesting guests does not align with the number of comedians entering the field and before you know it, the balloon animal artist and yourself are sharing a mug of something. I’m not a comedian. I tell one pirate joke too frequently and I rest on my laurels, rarely on my Hardy’s. See what I mean? Not a comedian.
In the truest form of selflessness, I am offering my services as a guest for next season. I would never dream of bumping anyone from their rightful spot in season three. No use to waste the film.
However, as anyone who thinks higher of themselves than their current socioeconomic status justifies, I have a few demands that must be agreed upon before we find a spot for me in season four. And just to show you I’m not all ego, it’s perfectly okay for me to be episode two or three of that season. Others need that first slot more than I do. Also, you want to pick me up in a Saturn or an Edsel, go ahead. I’m not one for vanity in automobiles. Gorilla Glue and duct tape currently hold up the plastic molding above the window on the passenger side of my vehicle.
Anyways, just a few conditions, you know, to avoid hold up in any negotiations:
I need something to eat
I’ll pop for the food. Don’t take that out of the show’s budget. The day-out can’t be just coffee. I enjoy coffee, but when it’s the only item I consume I get a little scatterbrained and hyperactive (not unlike this letter). So please, wherever we go, and it’s your call, there needs to be at least a fruit and yogurt parfait or some cinnamon toast on the menu. I’ll even have a little something before to curb my appetite. People who go out exclusively for coffee or tea seem to hover over their house blend and whisper. It’s as if the lack of food on the table does not allow them to speak in a louder voice, over-articulate with their hands, or pound the table with their fists if a claim warrants such pounding. I’ll need my full arsenal of communication skills at my disposal, so please, let’s have food.
I prefer booths
Tables don’t afford me the expanse of room I prefer in my sit-downs. I like the exclusivity a booth affords. Even a table against the wall feels like we’re part of the regular crowd, a booth means we’re elite. People see others in a booth (entirely my perception, based on nothing scientific) and their first thought it, “Wow those guys must be something really special. Who’d they slip an Abe to get into that spot?” Let’s get to that point of elite. Plus, people speaking in booths always appear to be having a much more profound conversation than others at a two-top. Maybe we spend fifteen minutes discussing the merits of Sweet’N Low and Sugar In The Raw, others, those at the tables, they don’t need to know that. You were always in a booth at Monk’s. It’ll be just like fictional old times.
No music in the restaurant
I struggle to carry on a conversation when in front of a laptop, there’s no way you’d get the full effect if Jim Croce came through the speakers of the café. Classical music would be best, instrumental okay, so long as it wasn’t instrumentals of well-known songs because then I’d get lost in attempts to figure out what song it was.
So there you have it. Three simple demands. Hopefully none of them are deal-breakers. And to make things easier for the crew and yourself, I’ll even dress inconspicuously in a zipped-down hoodie, blue jeans, dark-rimmed glasses, and a baseball cap. We don’t need to draw any untoward attention to ourselves. Also, I’ll be waiting for you at the gate so you don’t have to pay the meter and worry about the nuisance of permit parking.
The best of everything,
P.S. I normally have any requests go through my make-believe media relations department, but feel free to reach out to me directly.
Winter Break officially ended this morning. Get ready for new content starting tomorrow. As you spend the morning reacquainting your limbs with full movement, just remember pitchers and catchers report in a little over a month.
What to Read: And that’s the Cubs
What to Watch: Good news, he dunks.
What to Listen to: Not work appropriate.