Give Us a Film About Joe ‘Mental’ Mentalino

Murphy Brown is back. It’s looking like we’re going to get a movie about every person who ever appeared in a Harry Potter book. And every book that appeared in a Harry Potter book. And then the books that are in those books. Even Bumblebee, a goddamn Volkswagen, is getting a spin-off.

I’d like to see a prequel to Dumb and Dumber focusing on the two bit thug Joe ‘Mental’ Mentalino. Now there’s a character study.

Show us some of his childhood. Dig deeper into his struggle with ulcers. Has he always had them? Were they caused by his life of crime? Or was he in such great pain that he was driven to thuggery and buffoonery in order to be able to afford ulcer medicine?

How did the guy get to a place in his life where he was able to cut off a parakeet’s head?

What other depraved acts has he carried out?

So many themes to explore—the development of a psyche capable of animal decapitation, America’s broken healthcare system, the irony of a man being killed by his own rat poison.

There is a market for this.

 

Horror Movie Script

A pair of twins, reeling from the death of their parents, use their insurance money to buy an old mansion. The day comes when they move into their new digs. For an old house, it’s got a lot of modern amenities—track lighting, full gym, and a supply of creatine that almost seems to breed overnight. But then strange things begin to happen: shirts are found shrunken to a perfect ‘athletic fit,’ and disintegrate after more than one use. Any full-bodied beer placed in the refrigerator is mysteriously Miller 64 by morning. Sugar and salt transform into protein powder.

The house develops a new center of gravity, directly in front of the bathroom mirror. Once positioned in that spot, the twins find it nearly impossible to look away. Coupons for local tanning salons appear on the breakfast bar. The walls bleed hair gel at night, and in the morning, instead of fog, a choking mist of Axe body spray lingers over the property.

The strange occurrences escalate. At the apex of the ‘frightenings’, one of the twins wakes up and finds a rotting, yet well-coiffed zombie lingering near the bed, ready with a pointed weapon. The apparition points, and shoots. The boy screams, but is not harmed. It turns out it was a bottle of Febreeze; the walking dead man thought the stagnant scent in the room would ‘scare off tail.’ Episodes like this continue, until the twins find that the house has a deep, dark secret: it is haunted by ghost zombie metrosexual meat-head douchebags.

An epic battle ensues—the twins put up an effort to disgustify their house—laundry is put off, Tucker Max novels are burned, Spike TV is blocked. Inevitably, the house proves to be too powerful with its telekinetic powers.

The twins eventually find themselves dressing in tight shirts and downing protein shakes with their ‘brahs’ without even realizing what happened. The back patio, which they had originally planned to use for a laid-back bonfire area, is suddenly populated by loud hordes of women with low self esteem.

Facing defeat, the twins attempt a last act of defiance: they try to vomit up the extreme amount of protein that has been wreaking havoc on their digestive systems, but the metrosexual spirits suppress the urge, causing the twins to choke and die.

Fin

Happy Birthday, Chris Farley

Chris Farley should’ve been 49 today. Where would he be now? Still fat, and funny as ever? Would he have shed his weight and started doing dark indie films? Sex scandal? Drunk driving arrest? Murder? International intrigue? Political office? All I know is that we have Kevin James now. Kevin James.