i go away a lot, but i always come back.
november ninth, twenty sixteen: i woke up and thought to myself ‘something’s…..different.’ i soon found that biff tannen had ripped his way through the fourth wall of cinematic fiction and into this supposed reality, regained possession of the futuristic sports almanac, and wrested control of the white house (bob gale, a writer for back to the future II, has acknowledged that the rich, powerful tannen is based on someone who recently became king of America—google that), giving rise to a wave of ‘alts’—facts, wings of the right, and of course timelines. within these alternative timelines, expect quite a few of them to legalize pussy grabbing (some in more lawyerly language, some not so much), and in those where a female version of tannen assumes power, an equally degrading form of something called dong conking.
none of that really matters, though. the only thing i ever worry about is me, of course, which is why i have emerged from a months-long hiatus to make it known that i am not fake news. that’s all. i’m expecting many of these alternate timelines to produce executive orders shutting down any and all outlets that do not acknowledge the supreme insight and godliness of our new *rutaceaecean* figurehead of american greatness. so, as of this writing, the official stance of the philosophunculist blog is that america has been made great.
and speaking of biff tannen, was it really so bad that he got to be rich, if only in one timeline? in all three movies, dude gets smothered in poopy, which is what we have to assume is happening to this current commander in chief in every other timeline. just let the guy have one feces-free life, alright?
back to me. this blog is very real. it’s not even news, therefore it can’t be fake news. when the witch hunt for publications of ill repute commences, please don’t censor me. i’ll do anything. grab my pussy (in a timeline where i am a woman). conk my dong (in the timeline where the king is a woman. or even a man. i don’t care. if the masculine king of america wants to conk my dong, i’ll take it. years after this, when i’m homeless because all workers have been replaced by robots and the children and friends of the king, i can tell passersby that the king of america once conked my dong, and they will reward me with a russian ruble.) just let me keep this blog. it’s really all i’ve got, until america achieves an even greater level of greatness and me and everyone i know gets rich from working at our jobs (before the robots take over) because america will be that great
*i sort of made that up, but it has a base in rutaceae, which is the citrus family, and i know that doesn’t help my ‘not fake’ spiel, but due to its base on a real word, it can’t be classified as fake*
Some jerk, played by Jack Black, or whoever, somehow gains the ability to see the true inner self of people he encounters. Maybe we could get Tony Robbins or Doctor Oz to hypnotize him to make this possible. Hell, he could just get struck by lightning instead. That would be a lot easier, plus I feel like Doctor Oz would show up on set with quinoa salad to share with everyone, and then give some pitch about a new weight loss drug he just invested in. It would set back the schedule. I run a tight set. I’m also the director now. Writer-director.
Back on track. And by the way, the main guy doesn’t have to be Jack Black, maybe Neil Patrick Harris would be interested, or we could bring back some broke television star from the ’80’s that probably hasn’t tasted hot food in a while. So, this main character meets a really hot chick that doesn’t seem to understand why our main man is interested in her.
We fill in the middle with enough low grade bathroom humor to get the running time up to 90 minutes, then at the end, the Shyamalanian twist comes: the hot chick was the person’s inner self, remember, and when Jack Black or Michael Newman comes out of his altered state, we find that the person he was attracted to was a flamboyant junior high kid. Don’t worry, they didn’t get it on or anything. The other people in the film notice that the guy is acting really creepy around this kid, so they call the police.
The guy goes to jail, I’m thinking Michael Newman is my main choice now, because I’m the producer too. Writing, directing, producing. I do a lot of stuff. While in prison, the guy somehow becomes hypnotized again, and finds true love, this time with a legal adult, maybe a morbidly obese Hawaiian man, or whatever juxtaposition would be funny in this scenario. Who would look funny as Michael Newman’s boyfriend? I’ll have to look through some headshots. Or maybe I’ll just play the main guy, because I also act. I’m an actor that writes and directs and produces. And then the guy I fall in love with in prison is actually me, because by this point I play everyone in the movie.
The thing is, I don’t really want to get involved in the whole Hollywood-Industrial complex, so in order to get this thing made, it’s all going to have to take place in my spare bedroom, with no cameras, because I don’t like seeing videos of myself. Actually, I’ll probably just sit on the couch and imagine all this happening, then the second Shyamalanian twist will flop out: I find out that I am actually M. Night Shyamalan, or he is me. Haven’t thought that out yet.
I’m going to end this post now.
The left-wing liberal is sitting in a coffee shop, skimming over an article titled “The Right-Wing/Conservative/Tea Party Review of Jurassic World.”
How did it come to this? Why would someone read, on purpose, an article he knows will anger him?
The left-wing liberal is a tough creature to understand. Currently, he is on what is called a Comcast Cleanse, which means that he is boycotting the large corporation, because large corporations are evil. So, unable to access the internet in his suburban home, he grabs his iPad, hops into his Honda, which gets over 35mpg, and drives to the nearest Starbucks to use their Wi-Fi before he goes to his job at Target.
He starts by expressing his outrage over Cecil the lion on Facebook for the seventh straight day, oblivious to the fact that, as a carnivore, he himself has contributed to the slaughter of countless chickens, cows, and pigs right here in America. To be fair, though, the animals he eats are labeled ‘organic’ and don’t live in a factory, which makes killing them okay. And besides, he sometimes partakes in Meatless Mondays, so he’s basically a vegetarian.
Anyways, as he skims through the ‘Jurassic World’ article, he thinks how great it is that more and more children’s sports leagues don’t keep score and everyone gets a trophy, because that is how real life works.
“Ha! Doesn’t this guy realize that Islam and Christianity are actually very similar? I’m not sure how, exactly, but Brian said it on Family Guy one time.”
He temporarily diverts himself away from the article to visit a charitable website for pregnant inner city transgender hermaphrodite teenage kids that can’t afford to live inside of buildings. Just as he is about to click the ‘donate’ button, which would transfer five dollars from his bank account into that of the charity, he wanders up to the counter to purchase another coffee. By the time he is back at his iPad, the session has timed out, and he isn’t about to reenter all his information. He was close, though.
He decides to do something about this right-wing Jurassic World article. He copies the URL, and posts the link in his Facebook timeline with the header “Check out this paranoid conservative idiot,” an act which will somehow bring us all closer to peace and harmony.
Summertime means it’s time for fun, hot (but not global warming hot) temps, and big budget films liberally laced with anti-American values.
Jurassic World, or more appropriately Jihad World, is an audacious reminder that Muslims and liberals, now one and the same, have pulled out their spoons and dug, chipped, and caved their way into the entertainment industry in order to push upon us a film that symbolically dismantles America and her freedoms.
But wait, isn’t Jurassic World just an innocent summer thriller featuring dinosaurs and eye-dazzling special effects? The RIGHT-wing says WRONG!
It’s all about symbolism, folks. And cave-dwelling director Colin Trevorrow injects the symbolism into this film so heavily that even all the children left behind by the No Child Left Behind Act can see it.
It’s all as plain as the hair on my turban-free head.
Early in the film, we meet Muslim extremist Owen Grady, played by Chris Pratt. Grady represents the forces scheming to destroy freedom and liberty—a kind of Hitler, Bin Laden, and Hussein (both Saddam and Barack) medley.
During a velociraptor training session, Grady stops the beasts from feasting upon a small pig that runs through their cage, which is Anti-American Symbol #1: pork is withheld from the velociraptors, therefore the velociraptors represent Muslimity. Frankly, I’m surprised the filmmakers didn’t rename the velociraptors something like Islamasaurus, or Muslim Lizard King, or Death To Infidelus Rex. By now, you should be outraged. But wait, there’s more.
Anti-American Symbol #2: We are introduced to the apex predator, the badass, the hero, the king, the indestructible force of the film: the Indominus rex. The genetic makeup contains the DNA of cuttlefish, tree frogs, and a number of alpha dinosaurs. Read—this dinosaur is a veritable melting pot of genes. Wait, where has that term been used before? Oh yeah, to describe AMERICA. While in captivity, Indominus kills its sister, which obviously represents Great Britain, and eventually gains independence. So we have here the holy rolling train of unstoppable AMERICA.
But, for unspeakable reasons, Trevorrow depicts this perfect beast as an insatiable killer that preys on the weak and starts fights for fun.
As Grady searches for the escaped genius, we witness a wide shot depicting a landscape of dead apatosauri, killed for sport by Indominus. Now what does this remind you of? Remember when early patriots, drinking the delicious nectar of Manifest Destiny, meaninglessly slaughtered millions of buffalo on their journey west? Well, Jihad World mocks that.
Anti-American Symbol #3: Then we have Vic Hoskins, played by Vincent D’Onofrio. Despite D’Onofrio’s suspicious Spanish-sounding surname, do not fret, for he portrays a patriot. Hoskins plans to use the dinosaurs, most notably the sexy Indominus, as military weapons. He is, of course, vilified and eventually killed.
Anti-American Symbol #4: Visitors to Jihad World use gyrospheres, which are rolling orbs used to get up close and personal with the dinosaurs. What, you may ask, is wrong with a gyrosphere? A gyro is a Greek sandwich. Greek sandwiches do not come from AMERICA. The writers could have just as easily named the device a Cheeseburgersphere, or even put the tourists in mini Wienermobiles, but they didn’t.
Anti-American Symbol #5: The Indominus is eventually killed when the velociraptors and the Tyrannosaurus Rex push it towards the lagoon, where the Mosasaurus drags it underwater, metaphorically killing AMERICA. We have already discussed what the velociraptors represent, but where do the Tyrannosaurus and Mosasaurus fit in?
Simply put, the Tyrannosaurus represents tyranny, ISIS, homosexuality, interracial dating, taxes, un-white people, communism, immigrants, reggae music, electric cars, and any establishment that does not allow assault rifles—all things that will eventually push AMERICA to her demise. The Mosasaurus, due to its aquatic nature, is a blatant reminder that our enemies are covertly building vast underwater cities stuffed to the rafters with nukes, science books, and Kurt Vonnegut novels.
In conclusion, avoid this movie at all costs, and report anyone who sees it to Homeland Security.
(The inspiration for this review can be found in this article and its comments section, in which someone at the Tea Party News Network was under the impression that Chipotle became involved in some sort of Islamic conspiracy.)
All the good directors and actors must have been on strike while this film was being made. It’s bad.
True (mythological) story:
Thor once lost his hammer to the giant Thrym, who wanted the goddess Freyja as payment for it. In order to get the hammer back, Thor and Loki travelled to the land of the giants disguised as bride and bridesmaid. Things happen, and he eventually regains his weapon. Read all about it here and here.
We’ll see if the movie includes that juicy nugget.
It’s been a few years since I read The Great Gatsby, which was recently converted to the silver screen. If memory serves, wasn’t Jay Gatsby just some guy who let a bunch of strangers party at his house while he called them “old sport,” then somebody shot him and nobody showed up to the funeral?