Okay, so I let Comments of the Week lapse into hiatus for a few weeks again. Whatever! You try remembering to work on weekends! This feature is a lot like your father — don’t ask where it’s been, just be glad that it’s back.
Anyway, here are some comments worth highlighting from the past few weeks.
From the Patriots Day Miranda update:
Kevin: Thank you for the update Vince. I appreciate you sharing this clarification and hope you’ll reconsider your total hate for this country and the pure and perfect freedom it represents.
Kazoshay: When we’re done with you, you won’t know your miranda rights from your miranda lefts! #MERICA
Magic Mike: All I know is, had Mark Wahlberg been there that day at the Boston Marathon bombings, or the Deepwater Horizon explosion, or the miracle on the Hudson River (he would have also landed the plane, just landed it better), or 9/11, or Germany’s invasion of Poland, or the crucifixion of our lord Jesus Christ, that things wouldn’t have gone down the way they did.
From the Passengers review:
OhMyBalls: But they do bang, right?
DisplayUserName1: Well according to Vince, they did managed to catch Chris Pratt and J-Law doing banal on camera.
That’s good wordplay.
From the Rogue One review:
Rogue 15: Uh, I believe it’s Grandma Tarkin.
Idiot.
From my review of Silence (written by Martin Scorsese and Jay Cocks):
Ragnarok: Alternate Title: “Scorsese’s Too Long Silence With Cocks Leaves Bad Taste in Reviewer’s Mouth”
From Ryan Gosling is set to play Neil Armstrong in a biopic:
ChinoMoreno: Hey, girl. No Tang until we’re married.
Aw, it’s nice to have Chino Moreno back, even if it’s only for a comment or two. I hate when my readers starting acting like they have lives.
And, like every week, we finish off with some of Schnitzel bob’s eerily accurate fan fiction. From Frotcast 320:
Schnitzel Bob: I was going to write a lengthy thing about cultural appropriation, then I realized my efforts would be better spent in almost any other way. So here’s some Frotfiction.
“Then I told her that I was raised by surfing monks at a monastery in Baja, but she really kept at it, kept insisting that because I’m white I can’t wear a poncho. I guess not everyone can be chill.” Joey leaned more than should have been possible in the front passenger seat of Vince’s Tercel, one sandalled foot resting on the dash. From the back, Matt chimed in.
“But dude, don’t you think, like… it’s a little bit cultural appropriation?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Matt. Your real issue is with capitalism and commercialization.” Vince barked.
“well, maybe at times, but…”
In the back seat, next to Matt, Laremy barely heard his car-mates. Instead, he looked forward to their trip to the zoo while he stared out the window at the passing scenery.
“…I know the headdress thing is complicated, what I’m saying is even if people didn’t make money on it people-”
“GUYS!” Laremy interrupted. The other men stopped.
“A dog.” They looked. It was, indeed, a dog, a golden labradoodle, to be specific. It panted happily as a its owner walked it through the crosswalk in front of the car.
The light turned green and Vince resumed driving, but the passengers remained silent. Vince smiled. Joey and Laremy grinned lopsided grins, one by choice and the other by nature. Eventually Matt spoke again. “Heh. Dog.”
And, from Last Week In Posters:
Schnitzel Bob: “Honey, I’m home!” Vince announced to no one in particular, as his parents were usually not yet home when he came home from school.
“Hey girl!” The family dog, Muffy, a 9 year old golden retriever, trundled down the hallway, happily wagging her tail. He knelt and hugged his arms around her neck. Leaning back, he smiled and mock protested as she licked his face.
Standing up, he put his bag on a bench by the door and wiped his mouth on his coat sleeve. “That’s weird” he thought, “smells like… peanut butter…”
From the living room, around the corner, came the sound of a single beckoning whistle. Muffy raced away, and Vince was suddenly concerned. “Wh-who’s there?” He asked aloud, trying unsuccessfully to mask the quavering in his voice. Remembering the mirror opposite the door to the living room, he tried to be as silent as he could while slowly walking down the hall. Before he could see the reflection, he noticed the mirror was askew.
Looking at the reflection, he saw it all. His supposed “friend,” Joe Sinclitico, a jar of peanut putter, and Muffy… all framed at a 45 degree angle by the misaligned mirror.
“Vince?” Laremy broke Vince’s reverie by again posing his question. “So why is it you hate diagonal angles in movie posters so much anyway?”
Vince came back to reality, finally hearing the question. Reaching around to the waste-basket, he pulled out an old newspaper, rolled it up, and smacked Laremy behind the head. “Shaddup, that’s why!”
Thanks for hanging around, everyone. As always, nominate for next week in the comments below.