Internet commenters are very bad. But every once in a while, Uproxx commenters are very good. Once a week, we recognize the latter.
You may have noticed we didn’t have a comments of the week last week, and that’s because it was a shortened Thanksgiving week, so I figured I’d just roll last week into this week and do it all at once. I’m just taking you into my process here, I hope you appreciate it.
Now then, the comments of the week, in no particular order. From my review of Jackie:
the9: This movie is so cliche Hollywood, that I’m surprised Eddie Redmayne didn’t play Jackie.
HarryW: He’s in the casket.
That is both an Eddie Redmayne callback and an Alice Roosevelt callback.
From This Week In Posters, about the love-in-the-shadow-of-a-Stalin-genocide movie:
irishda: Bitter Harvest is actually a light comedy complete with laugh track and pratfalls, as the greatest mass murderer in human history proves hilariously inept at personally keeping two teenagers from boning.
From Frotcast 317:
BurnsyFan66: So… I’m having trouble getting past my seventh listen here. I mean, it’s still great! Better each time.
But at the 47:22 mark, Burnsy was about to say something and Vince interrupted him. I can’t escape this feeling that it was going to be pretty hilarious and awesome.
No big deal though. I’ve transcribed the whole episode and I’ll email it over, just go ahead and have the crew back and redo it.
Then, when you get to 47:22, Vince should say, “Oh, what’s that Burnsy? Sounds like you have something pretty hilarious and awesome to say! I apologize for interrupting you and realize some fans really want to hear what you have to say and it’s not good for my health to step on your jokes and someone is going to hurt me real BAD if ever do it again!!!!”. Or something like that, idk.
Also, last night, I took care of those dang crickets! I sprayed around Ashley’s house with my homemade pesticide (bleach, gasoline, and urine). I kinda killed most of his grass, and the paint on his house, but it’s worth it to get a perfect second take of this episode!
Thanks Vince! I know you won’t let me down, again.
So there’s this commenter, and his entire shtick is that he loves Burnsy, and… you know what? Story for another time.
From my review of the generic Office Christmas Party:
OhMyBalls: Are there any scenes where white folk dance in slow motion to 90’s rap? ‘Cause that’s my shit.
Not only does it have that, it has the “people partying shot with a strobe effect” scene. That wasn’t a hilarious comment so much as an accurate prediction.
From the new Fast/Furious trailer, which is called “The Fate Of The Furious.”
TheSuaveIdiot: What if… the Fast and Furious franchise is just a prequel series that sets up Riddick? As in the crew is so fast, and so furious, that they destroy earth? But to the rest of space, we aren’t known as Earthlings? We’re Furyans? And it was actually prophesized that Dom (the name he gets in his first super max pen) was to beat the head Necromonger in a drag-style space race?
Hollywood, get this guy on the phone stat.
From This Week in Posters:
Tim of the Tribe: I can explain the fridge thing! Basically when large refrigerators were becoming more prevalent the technology to seal the doors wasn’t quite there so they all had latches on them to maintain a tight seal and keep the coolness in. As a if a child found his way into an abandoned fridge and the door closed that latch would seal automatically and there’d be no way to get out once in, this caused junk yards to adopt a policy of ‘all fridges junked must have doors removed,’ due to the possibility of child death on their property. Modern refrigerators, think last 30 years, have better sealant tech on them and don’t require a latch, as a result any modern fridge can be easily opened from the inside with only the slightest amount of force, so warning kids about climbing into abandoned fridges ceased being a thing.
OhMyBalls: So I’ve been drilling air holes in mine for nothing?
Informative, and a joke about that information. Nice going, guys.
This next one, from the first Spider-Man: Homecoming trailer, is funny just because it’s so square:
rsg_w_: I have not been so excited for a superhero film since the first avengers movie trailer was released. This instalment seems like it really catches the dorky, awkward persona that Peter Parker had in the comics, so seeing that finally converted onto the silver screen is actually quite refreshing. In Tobey Maguire we had an awkward Spiderman who looked like he was too old for High School, and in Andrew Garfield, although I thought he was brilliant, he seemed far too cool and cocky to really capture the personality of the awkward webslinger.
Every once in a while I get a glimpse of my life in the alternate present where I still work in a boring office instead of watching movies in my sweatpants all day, and I think about how I’d have to stand around a watercooler in my dress shoes and business cazh button up nodding thoughtfully why a co-worker holds forth on his favorite Mighty Mouse. If only we could frame political discussion in terms of Batman casting, voter turnout would be 98%. The first thing you learn about adulthood is that there are no adults.
And finally, it wouldn’t be Comments of the Week without Schitzel Bob’s inside-joke-dense fan fictions. Is it weird to reward your own fan fiction? Probably, but what can I say, these are clever.
From Frotcast 317:
Schnitzel Bob: “You know, I’ve got to admit, Joey, I wasn’t sure about this, but that was fun!” Matt wiped his forehead, patted his horse on the neck, and admired the beauty of the underdeveloped wilderness around him. The morning had been spent successfully chasing cattle rustlers, while the afternoon had seen himself, Joey, and Teddy rounding up stray animals. A mundane task by any definition, but the simplicity of it gave Matt’s mind the break it needed from the stress of modern life. Surprisingly, given the dry air, even his eczema was doing better. He looked around again. “It’s too bad Laremy missed this.”
Joey laughed. “Yeah, well, you know old Lare Bear. Marches to the beat of his own drum. I swear that guy is determined to drink every bottle of sasparilla in this place.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “But enough of this. Come on, Billy, let’s go get robofucked!”
They rode back into Sweetwater and headed for the Inn. “Not much of a rind on you…” began one of the hosts, but Matt walked by. He clumsily attempted to wink, instead managing to blink at the same time as he interrupted her “Maybe later, darling.”
As their heavy boots clomped down the hallway, they heard squeaking and grunting noises from the room at the end of the hall, where Laremy was staying.
Joey smiled mischievously. “What if we just walked in on him?” Matt grinned. “Let’s do it!”
The approached the door, and the noises became clearer. Squeaking, grunting, and… something else. A gentle thrumming. “Wonk. Wonk. Wonk.” The second or so it took Matt to identify the noise would remain burned in his memory ever after. He tried to react, tried to stop Joey from barging in, but too late.
Joey threw the door open and discovered Laremy in flagrante delicto with something that was definitely not a host. It was about the shape of a garbage can, with Chinese lettering on the side and a moving orifice half-way up. Someone had imperfectly tied a blonde wig to its “head”, and although they couldn’t tell, this particular machine also had thick red lipstick smeared around its “mouth”.
“GOD!” Matt cried in horror. “Why, Laremy, why?!” He turned and stumbled down the hallway. Joey stood, still processing what he was seeing. After a few minutes, he heard Matt’s increasingly distant voice through the open window, shrieking “CHARLENE! CHARLENE!”
From Frotcast 318:
Schnitzel bob: They had been wandering for hours and lost for most of it, Vince finally had to admit to himself. But he reached into his pocket, felt the mysterious invitation that had drawn him here, and decided to continue. After all, they must be close.
He was right; as he and Matt rounded a corner, they finally stumbled upon the center of the maze. A pedestal stood a short distance away with an envelope on it. Vince ran up and tore it open.
He stared at the message. “What does it say?” Matt asked. Vince handed him the paper. He reached to his pocket for the invitation again and reread it.
“VIP tickets for the MMA/Puppies/Top Chef expo to the first person who can reach the center of the maze!” Followed by an address.
He read the invitation aloud. “Of course it was fake. Jesus. I must be losing my damn mind.”
He glanced at his surroundings and sighed. “And now she’s gone and stranded us. I have no idea how to get out of here, dude.”
Matt put a hand on Vince’s shoulder. It would have been an overly familiar gesture in other circumstances, one that would result in an instinctual jiu jitsu throw, but Vince’s quiet despair numbed his normal unique physiological reactions.
“Don’t even trip, dude. Look.” Matt pointed to the floor behind them. Vince turned and squinted. A trail. He squatted, dipped a finger in the dusty white trail and brought it to his mouth. “Eczema.” He looked up. “Lieb, you flaky bastard, you’ve saved us!”
The MMA/Top Chef/Puppies expo would be rad, don’t act like it wouldn’t.
From this week’s Top Chef rankings:
Schnitzel bob: A boy, somewhere between being a child and being an adolescent, wanders down a long gravel driveway in Fresno. The sun beats down on his mop of curly reddish hair while he lazily tosses a rock in the air and catches it.
Suddenly, a flash of light appears in front of him, revealing through a hole in the sky an older, wearier but still recognizable face. Instinctively young Vince knows this is himself.
“Hey butthorn. I don’t have much time.” Young Vince nods and listens. “Three things. First, watch this movie and remember what you think about it. Second, don’t waste your money at Columbia. Third, when Jenna Gonzalez asks you whether you like Indian food in 12th grade, she’s actually really interested in you and wants you to ask her out, so don’t answer “Not really, it gives me awful gas.””
A VHS cassette emerges from the rapidly shrinking hole. The man looks earnestly at his younger self. “Remember.” Then, with a pop, the man and the light are gone.
My hair is not reddish. I hate you all. Until next week. (Nominate in the comments section below)