Comments Of The Week Returns, With Schnitzel Bob’s Incredible Matt Lieb Fan Fiction

I know, I know, we haven’t had a Comments of the Week since July, ever since Evan Harold was all “La di da, I have a real job like an adult now, that pays me a ‘salary,’ for doing ‘work,’ I’m soooo coooool.” Major league Jerkburger, that guy. In any case, three months without recognizing your commenters is a real failure as an editor by yours truly. Apologies. Nonetheless, it’s never too late to try again, so I’m trying to get things back on track this week. Below are some of the best from our lengthy hiatus, and as always, NOMINATE FOR NEXT WEEK’S CoTW IN THE COMMENTS BELOW. Bookmark the post if you have to, that’s how I do it. And be sure to stay for Schnitzel Bob’s Matt Lieb fan-fiction. It’s amazing.

Now then.

From Holy Hell, People Are Naming Their Sons Django Now:

Beastmode Ate My Baby: “Django Smith?”


“Django Jefferson?”


“Django Leibowitz? Django Leibowitz?”

“Um, I think he’s at the orthodontist.”

“Thank you, Django. Django Wu?”


Mmm, love that slice-of-life, subtle race humor. Of course, as a t-shirt I saw at Fisherman’s Wharf taught me, I heart my h8ers, so I can’t skimp on those, starting in the Box Office Wrap Up back in July, when Dinesh D’Souza’s America came out:

Anthonyjm says: Did this article really murder mouth the Movie America? Clearly must be a libtard

“Murder mouth?” Is that a thing? That’s… not even clever. But it’s true, I am a jerk for badmouthing that movie from the convicted felon.

From my Planet Of the Apes review:

SaysomethingstupidPaul says: What I got from this “review”.

1. You were pissed your free ticket wasn’t in the best section. lolz, you don’t work for the NY Times, this is Buzzfeed dude.

2. You weren’t able to comprehend basic concepts of the film. Herding deer… really? What kind of vegan farm did you grow up on?

3. You didn’t pay attention to anything that happened in the film. (see: entire article, 3rd to last paragraph especially)

4. You hate anything and everything that is part of a brand for that single reason alone as alluded to in your opening. (see: C.A. : Winter Soldier)

I’ll give this review a D-. The hipster act doesn’t work so well when you play it straight.

You know, all these “go back to Buzzfeed, hipster” comments really make me wish I’d stayed in my mom’s basement. :-(

From VFX Artists Hate Andy Serkis:

jangles: Finally he begins to toss some shit around. You can only play the chimp so long before it takes over. Serkis checks out, Dunston checks in.

Dunston Checks In references are hard to get away with, but jangles made that work.

From a Boyhood related post:

Power Donut Man says: If I wanted to watch a kid age 12 years, I would have put windows in that box I built in my basement.

Incredible Tulk says: 12 years a slave to one project? Take that, Chiwetel Ejiofor!

Oh, and there should probably be an entire separate section for Schnitzel Bob’s Matt Lieb fan-fiction.

From Lindsay Lohan Pitched Tina Fey A Mean Girls Sequel And You Won’t BELIEVE Something Something:

Schnitzel bob says: Matt walked down fisherman’s wharf walking his friend’s jack russell terrier. He was a bit uncertain around dogs, but this one was beginning to turn him around on them.

He wandered more or less aimlessly, letting the dog dictate where they went. He was staring at a seagull when he heard a man’s voice intone “Oh hi doggy.”

The voice was unmistakable. He looked around to see where it had come from. Finally, he noticed a man sitting against a wall a few feet away. He had long black hair, wore a trench coat, and had a blanket with mechanical birds spread before him.

“You!” Matt exclaimed. “You’re…” The man interrupted him “It’s not true, it’s bullshit”

Matt stood in stunned silence. The man winked at him and said “Don’t touch me motherfucker.”

Matt wasn’t sure what to do. He looked around to see whether anyone else had noticed what was happening. When he turned back, the man was gone.

Matt just stood there. He looked around a few times but saw no trace of the man. He began to walk away considering what he would tell him friends. “What a story, Matt”, he muttered to himself.

From Vin Diesel Has A Beard Now:

Schnitzel Bob says:

Jim stumbled into the dark apartment followed by his benefactor. He hadn’t known the stranger before this afternoon, when the man had stopped, stared, and offered to buy him a hot meal. It was a somewhat strange offer, but 15 years on the streets had taught him never to refuse a hot meal. Those same years on the streets had also dulled his senses to less immediate dangers. Oh, he was savvy enough to deal with other imbalanced homeless people, but premeditated crime was too far beyond his day to day experience to constitute a real threat.

The strange man has also plied him with liquor, something which should have raised alarms, but again, Jim wasn’t the kind to look a gift horse in the mouth. Especially when that gift horse was made of bottles.

“Here, you can sleep here tonight.” The stranger gestured to a worn out couch along the wall. It was old and grimy, but looked comfortable enough. “Besides” Jim voiced his inner monologue, “I’m old and grimy too!” He laughed, which turned into a phlegmy cough. He sat down and wheezed for a while before lying down. In his state, it took no time to fall asleep.

Jim awoke the next morning with the sensation that something was wrong. He had a splitting headache and his mouth tasted like someone had thrown up in it, but that was par for the course. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted the decision. The early morning sun streamed into the basement apartment through a window bereft of curtains.

He momentarily wondered where he was before piecing together bits of the previous night. He still hadn’t identified the source of his malaise when a voice spoke to him.

“Ah, you’re up! Good to see. Listen, I’ve got to go, but I’ll give you a sandwich and a few bucks for coffee or something. How’s that?”

Jim looked over to the stranger. There was something… different about him. Through the haze of his thought process, an alarm finally screamed at him from the back of his mind. “The beard!”

That was it. His chin was bare for the first time in years. Not only that, but his beard was now on the stranger’s face. It was obviously and imperfectly glued on to the man’s chin.

“My beard?” Jim half-protested. The stranger smiled. “Well, look at the time, I guess I’ve got to be going now, but here’s the sandwich!” Jim felt a sandwich pressed into his palm as he was hurried into the hallway. The door slammed behind him.

Inside the apartment, Matt admired himself in the mirror. “A new beard for a new man” he thought. Today was going to be a good day.

From The Trailer For Tim Burton’s Big Eyes:

Schnitzel Bob says:

There was an air of genuine relaxation in the offices of Filmdrunk Inc that afternoon. Vince had left to attend the filming of the pilot episode of a new MMA/cooking show called Crock Blocked. Burnsy was snoozing in the hammock he’d strung up between the rafters. There were a pair of toned women’s legs also visibly hanging from the hammock, although no one had seen a woman enter. It was the eternal mystery of Burnsy.

With their overbearing and at times terrifying boss away for the afternoon, Matt and Laremy sat around shooting the sh*t.

“Did you see Tim Burton’s doing a new film?” Laremy asked while lazily spooning honey into his mouth.

“Let me guess” Matt replied “It features Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, and the score is by Danny Elfman.”

Laremy laughed, which caused a gob of honey to drip from his mouth onto his chin. He didn’t seem to notice. “No, actually, it’s got none of those things.”

“Huh.” Matt leaned back in his chair. Like most people, he’d liked some of Tim Burton’s earlier work but lost interest as he watched the filmmaker devolve into near self-parody. Still, even at their worst his films had some appeal.

“Helena Bonham Carter. She’s just… I don’t know, she’s weird looking.” Matt observed.

“Fo sho.”

“Not, like, in a bad way, though. Necessarily.”

“I guess she was ok in Fight Club”

“Yeah, no, I just mean, she’s kind of attractive.”

“Whatever you say, man. Doesn’t do it for me.” Laremy had now moved on to peanut butter, which he ate by dipping a banana in the jar and licking it off. He still hadn’t noticed the honey on his face.

“No, but even if she’s not conventionally attractive, she’s attractive, right?” Matt sat up in his chair and looked intently at Laremy, who didn’t notice.

“Sure, whatever.”

“No, Laremy, seriously.” Matt slowly rose from his chair. Laremy finally noticed the tone in Matt’s voice. He looked over in concern and considered his words carefully.

“Hey man, it’s cool, whatever floats your boat. She’s not my cup of tea, but I can see how people would like that.”

“Like what, Laremy? Like. What?”

Laremy scrambled for an answer. He’d never considered Matt to be a threat before, but there was a glint in his eye that Laremy didn’t like. “Like, uh, the goth look. I don’t like the goth look, I got involved with a goth girl in high school and she broke my heart, you know, kinda ruined it for me, even though when I think about it I guess I can still understand why I liked it in the first place, it’s the whole thing of being different enough to grab your attention…” Laremy babbled nervously while Matt walked over to his desk.

“S’right.” Matt muttered and walked past Laremy. He walked out the door without taking his jacket or his umbrella. Laremy walked to the window and looked down to the building entrance. He saw Matt walk out, make his way to a nearby bench, and sit down in the pouring rain, apparently oblivious to the fact that he was getting drenched. He was still there when two hours later. Steeling his courage, Laremy walked up to him.

“Is everything ok?” He asked.

Matt sat in silence for nearly a full minute before answering. “Charlene left me”.

It all made sense. He put his hands on Matt’s shoulder. “Come on, dude. Let’s get you somewhere dry.”

From Michael Moore Lambastes Obama Something Something:

Schnitzel bob

Matt walked around Manhattan, taking in the sights, sounds and smells. It had been too long. He loved everything about New York, but could never afford to live here. Or, rather, he could, but he didn’t know enough people to share a slum house with the way he had for years in San Francisco.

He purchased an overpriced apple and bit into its waxy skin. The tart juice dribbled down his chin. The late summer air was chillier than he was used to, but he loved it. He made his way to the venue where he would be performing his stand-up routine over the weekend. It wasn’t a great place, but hey, he was getting paid to be here.

Later that evening, Matt stood in the wings of the stage in the comedy club, waiting for his turn. He felt good. Nervous, but good. He’d been honing his routine and felt that it was in a good place. As he went over the order of his jokes again, he heard noise from the other side of the stage. He saw the manager rush to greet someone, but couldn’t tell who it was.

Eventually, the manager came over. “Hey man, I’m sorry, but we’re gonna have to bump you.” Matt’s pulse raced. The manager continued, “Yeah, it’s just that Michael Moore came in and wants to do some spoken word stuff. He’s a name, you know?”

Matt sat in sullen silence as Moore was announced and brought on stage. He fumed while the notorious blowhard lectured the audience. He wore his trademark ball cap and “everyman” clothes, but it was, to Matt, so clearly an act.

“What a stupid f*cking fat, goddamn piece of sh*t.” Matt thought to himself as his anger rose. “F*cking this guy, makes the most obvious goddamn points and presenting it like he’s f*cking Moses down from the mount. Like, I could stand around with my fat lizard tongue hanging out, haranguing middle America, but would anyone celebrate me for it? Noooooo.”

“And then he takes my spot? No. No! Not tonight, Moore!” By this point Matt was audibly talking to himself and standing. His fists balled up, his brow sweaty, he began walking towards the stage.

He rushed on stage and made his way over to Moore. The filmmaker looked startled and Matt angrily walked over. Without hesitating, Matt kicked him in the shins and ripped the mic from his hands. Moore fell to the ground with a satisfying BOOM, his heavy frame turning the stage into an enormous bass drum.

“HOW YOU LIKE ME NOW, BOWLING FOR COLUMBINE?!” Matt yelled. For good measure, he kicked Moore in the ass. He reflected for a moment on the fact that roughly 60% of Moore’s flabby body was ass to kick, and decided to work that into his routine.

“So you guys” He began, “How about that Michael Moore, huh? He’s an ass. He’s such an ass that…”

From Stanley Kubrick Tribute Video:

Schnitzel bob

Matt sat in Vince’s car, a ’93 Toyota Tercel with a “Where’s the Beef?” bumper sticker, while Vince drove them both to a Stanley Kubrick career retrospective. The ride had taken place in near total silence when Vince turned on the radio.

The radio was preset to a 90s station, and they listened to an asinine DJ banter about winning t-shirts or something. A few ads played, followed by a station ID, presaging the return of “non-stop hits”.

Matt could almost feel the mood in the car change as the opening drum beat from Third Eye Blind’s seminal classic “Semi-Charmed Life” came on. He didn’t dare look at Vince (like an ape, Vince was angered by direct eye contact), but saw from the corner of his eye as the barest hint of a smile manifested itself on his boss’ face.

They continued to sit in silence while the first verse played. Then, at an imperceptible level, Vince began to sing under his breath.

“…and I wish I could get back there someplace, back there smiling in the picture you would take”

“Doing crystal meth’ll lift you up until you break” Matt finished the lyric. Both sang on. By the time the chorus came around, they were belting the song out at the top of their lungs.

For the first time in months, they looked at each other. They sang in unison as the bridge began.

“And the four right chords can make me cry, when I’m with you I feel like I could die and that would be alright, alright”

The wind blew in through the deliberately open driver-side window and the broken passenger side window. Matt felt the thrill of that moment. In the car with the wind blowing through his moustache, he knew that life wasn’t either good or bad, but that it was composed of moments of both, and you had to recognize them for what they were. This was a good moment.


The song ended and they pulled into the parking lot of their destination. Somewhat flush, Vince wiped his forehead. As he got out of the car, he cast a sideways glance at Matt. “Not one word.” He stalked away.

Matt slowly followed Vince. He’d expected this response, but smiled. They’d shared something, and they both knew it.

From William H. Macy’s Directorial Debut:

Schnitzel bob

Burnsy and Matt left the office to get lunch. As they walked towards a taqueria that Burnsy recommended (“It’s seriously rad, dude!”), they observed a hearse leading a funeral procession.

Matt paused. He watched the line of cars move by slowly, saw the grim looks on the faces of those who passed by. He closed his eyes, shuddered slightly, and developed goosebumps despite the heat.

Realizing he was now walking alone, Burnsy turned around to watch the scene unfold. It lasted less than 30 seconds before Matt caught up and kept walking.

“What was that all about?” Burnsy asked.

“Oh, well… it’s nothing. Just… sadness, you know? It reaches out to me”. Matt explained with a vacant look, his mind still on the grief of those who’d passed by.

Burnsy’s neon pink framed sunglasses masked most of his expression, but the corners of his mouth went from their natural resting grin to something more neutral, an occurrence he hadn’t experienced in months. He thought about how to respond.

“You’re kind of weird, dude.”

“I know.” Matt sighed. “Better than anyone, I know”.

From Gary Busey Something Something:

Schnitzel bob

Matt wiped away the tears of laughter and quickly wrote up the story. After posting it, he sat at his desk, thought about the situation, and started laughing all over again.

Vince walked up behind him. “What’s so funny, Lieb?”

Caught up in his laughter, Matt didn’t notice who he was talking to. “Nothing, butthorn!” he replied, before turning around to see who had addressed him.

The colour drained from his face when he saw Vince.

At Matt’s utterance of the word butthorn, everything stopped. Everyone in the Filmdrunk office turned to see how the situation unfolded. Laremy sat in a contrived mid-bite position, his sandwich held at what he hoped was a comedic angle.

Vince was red in the face and clearly gathering steam to tear a strip off Matt when the main door to the office burst open. Everyone turned to see who’d entered.

A man walked in carrying a surfboard. His long blonde bangs escaped the backwards Chicago Bulls cap he wore. A baby-blue Billabong t-shirt matched his board shorts. Matt stared at him and noticed his sunglasses. The only word he could think to describe them was “Radical”. Indeed, the only word he could think to describe the man was “radical”.

“Vinnie Mahnchini!” the man said, putting deliberate emphasis on the italian pronunciation of Vince’s last name.

“Burnsy! Where the hell have you been?!” Vince’s anger turned on a dime and he’d now forgotten about Matt’s transgression.

“You think I pay you to dick around Orange County? We’ve got news to cover, here, Burnsy! Real news, not your ‘Big Trouble in Little China’ shit.” The veins in Vince’s neck throbbed. The veins in his temple did the same. At that moment, he was more throbbing vein than man.

Burnsy stood with a rakish grin. The anger, nearly a physical presence at this point, clearly didn’t bother him.

Matt watched in wonder as Vince unloaded the full brunt of his anger on Burnsy, to seemingly no effect. Eventually, Vince stormed off to his office and slammed the door so hard it knocked the Guy Fierri clock off the wall.

Matt approached the man Vince had called Burnsy. “Teach me?” He pleaded.

Burnsy smiled quizically, sat at a desk -Matt’s desk- and put his sandled feet up.

From This Robot Supercut:

Schnitzel bob

Matt watched the video and laughed. He admired the effort it took, even if it was a pointless kind of effort.

Watching it again, he noticed the lyrics, particularly the repeating chorus of “robots don’t love you anymore”. He scoffed. What nonsense. He knew that Charlene loved him. Still…

He resisted the impulse at first, but as the time passed, he felt increasingly compelled to reach for his phone. “Love you :)” he texted to Charlene.

He tried to get back to work but was distracted by the distinct lack of a reply. Minutes passed, then an hour. Despite the heat, he felt cold. It was lunch time but he had no appetite. He looked over at the wall clock, a Guy Fierri novely clock that featured a picture of Guy with the caption “Flavour Time!”. The hands continued their circular march, but his phone emitted no sound. The silence worked its way under his skin, into his mind, into his soul.

He sat at his desk staring intently at his phone. His mouth hung slightly open without his realizing it. It gradually dried out, causing him to choke-cough suddenly. He barely noticed as the rest of the Filmdrunk staff looked over at him.

Matt’s mind drifted. He began to imagine all the reasons Charlene might not respond. His consciousness fell into the poisonous pit of suspicion and fear. Every insane possibility jumped out at him. He was adrift on a malicious ocean.

His thoughts were interrupted by his phone’s text notification, a midi version of Korn’s “Falling Away From Me”. He fumbled as he checked the message, but saw that it was from Charlene.


He felt a sudden flood of relief. Dopamine and adrenaline coursed through his system, making him at once hot and cold. His hands were clammy, his mouth dry, but everything was alright.

“The robots don’t love you anymore…” he said out loud, and smiled.

From Expendables 3 something:

Schnitzel bob

Matt sat quietly at his desk typing when he suddenly felt and arm close around his neck. By the pungent smell of garlic and cabbage, he knew that Vince had him in a headlock.

“You know what time it is, Lieb?”

Vince’s rough, meaty knuckles began scraping their way across the top of Matt’s head.

“Noogie time!”

Matt bore this passively. He knew that resisting would only make it worse, and he wasn’t in a position to resist in any case. After a few minutes, Vince let go.

“Ah Lieb, you’re a diamond!” Vince chuckled. He leaned forward to look at what Matt was writing.

“What’s this?” He asked in feigned shock, “You write about the site without mentioning me?!”

Matt remained quiet. He resisted the urge to rub the raw marks on his throat.

“Go on, then, change it!” Vince insisted as he crouched down, his face inches away from Matt’s.

Tentatively, Matt moved the cursor and added “editor-in-beefcake” to the article he was writing.

Vince roared with laughter. “Editor in beefcake! You’re a diamond, Lieb, a diamond! I knew there was a reason I keep you around here!”

From Lizzy Caplan Is Pretty:

Schnitzel bob

Matt and Laremy sat at their desks casually chatting.

“Have you seen Masters of Sex?” Laremy asked.

“Yeah, it’s great. Like, not only is it a legitimately great show, but Lizzy Caplan is naked a ton.” He paused in thought and sighed. “She’s so hot”.

Laremy nodded in agreement. “Yep, that Lizzy Caplan is definitely a pretty lady.”

Jokingly, Matt said “Well I get dibs though, since she’s Jewish.”

Suddenly, Vince came barging out of his office. “Like hell you do, Lieb! She’s mine, I’ve had my eye on her since Mean Girls.”

Matt and Laremy sat in silence, unsure how to proceed. Vince continued.

“Yeah, I’ve had a boner over Lizzy Caplan for years now. In fact, I’ve got one right now!”

He pointed to the noticeable bulge in his blogging slacks. Walking towards Matt, he swung his hips back and forth, waving his tumescence in the direction of Matt’s face.

“See?!” Vince insisted.

“Ok, yes. Jesus. She’s yours, I got it.” Matt leaned back and turned his head away from Vince’s uncomfortably close crotch.

“Damn right!” Vince said with a satisfied grin on his face. “Alright you two idiots, get back to work.”

From Steven Spielberg Remaking West Side Story:

Schnitzel bob

Matt sat at his desk with headphones on, listening with eyes closed to “I dreamed a dream”. It was 5 o’clock on a Sunday and he’d come in to get a jump on the following week’s work.

As the song washed over him, he began to sing, softly at first, but gradually building until he was belting it out. The youtube video of the song was set to a picture of Anne Hathaway as Fantine, her soulful eyes staring holes into whoever dared look.

He was suddenly startled by a hand on his shoulder. He jerked straight back, ripping his headphones out of the computer as he fell backwards out of his chair. He looked up from the floor to see Alison Stevenson. She seemed as surprised as he was.

Matt straightened himself up as the sounds of the song continued to fill the office. They stood in awkward silence while the last few seconds floated around them.

He half turned away from her and set about turning off his computer.

Alison broke the silence. “I hadn’t figured you for a musical guy, Matt”.

“I’m not… It’s nothing” he stammered. He closed the youtube page and tried to ignore Anne Hathaway’s piercing stare. The image stayed with him as he collected his things, brushed past the still confused Alison and left the office.

Alison Stevenson responded to that last one, “I got a Google alert for this.”

From Porn Production Down 90%:

Schnitzel bob

Matt sat in Vince’s office.

“What do you got for me today, Lieb?”

“Well, I was thinking on doing a piece on the state of the porn industry in LA.”

“Sure, sure, that’s fine. Hey, did I ever tell you I once worked in the porn industry?”

“Uh, no, you never mentioned that”

“Yeah, here, let me show you” Vince rummaged around in the lowest drawer of his desk before pulling out a framed photo. It was of a group of 6 men and women, completely naked, bent over and exposing their buttholes. He handed the photo to Matt and pointed to the man second from the left.

“There’s me!”

Matt recoiled. “What… ugh… Jesus. What kind of porn did you say it was?”

“It was fetish stuff, I’m surprised you’ve never heard of it you weirdo. They call it fissure porn!”

That explained it. Matt once more looked over the photo and noticed there was something… distinct about the buttholes on offer.

“Know what they called me?” Vince asked. “The Fissure King”. He beamed proudly and took back the photo. As Matt left, he put it back in his desk and sat down contentedly, caught up in memories of a happier time.

From Rosewater:

Schnitzel bob

Matt sat huddled in the bathroom, eating his late lunch of leftover spaghetti in his torturous way. The floor and the walls of the stall were covered with the splatter that resulted from his trying to simultaneously breathe and eat at the same time.

His concentration was shattered by Vince’s thunderous voice. “LIEB”.

Even from two rooms away, Matt could sense the impatience in Vince’s voice. He decided not to make him wait. He considered putting his leftovers away, but chose instead to flush them down the toilet.

He rushed across the office, hurriedly wiping spaghetti sauce from his moustache as he went. He nearly choked on an errant strand of spaghetti and was catching his breath when he opened the door to Vince’s office.

“Yeah… boss…” He gasped.

“Christ, Lieb, every time I see you it’s like you’re trying to make me regret hiring you even more. Get it together.”

Vince looked Matt over once more and shook his head in disgust.

“Stop… whatever it is you were up to. I want you to cover this new Jon Stewart film.”

Matt attempted to surreptitiously look up at the clock in the corner of Vince’s office. It was nearly five o’clock. Vince noticed.

“Look, Lieb, I know you think it’s nearly quitting time, but I don’t give a good goddamn! I need that story and I need it now!”

Matt hesitated for the briefest moment. “It’s just, sir, I promised Charlene…”


Matt rushed back to his desk. He looked at the picture he kept of Charlene, the Chinese handjob machine that was his life partner, and imagined how disappointed she would be that they would have to miss the production of ‘Oklahoma’ that was only in town for one night.

“One day I’ll leave this hellhole”, he muttered under his breath. “One day, Charlene, I promise”.

From Night At The Museum 2:

Schnitzel bob

*Matt stood uneasily in the pornography shop. He wasn’t entirely sure why Laremy had taken him here. Laremy grabbed him by the arm and pulled him towards one corner of the store.*


*Matt looked. He saw an array of ‘golden shower’ porn DVDs.*

“What am I looking at?” He asked.

“Pissing stuff, dude! I had to look all over town to find the one store that sold this stuff!” Laremy replied in obvious and expectant excitement.

“…” Matt couldn’t think of anything to say.

*Laremy’s excitement began to turn into confusion as he saw the flat look on Matt’s face.*

“Don’t… don’t you like golden shower stuff?” He tentatively asked.

*Matt sighed and, very aware of the meme he was imitating, put his palm to his face in the manner of Picard.*

“No, Laremy. It’s quicksand. Quicksand!” He turned to leave.

Laremy put a hand on his shoulder. “Wait, I… I’m sorry, I honestly thought it was golden showers!”

“How many years have we worked together, Laremy? Jesus Christ! It’s like you don’t even know me!”

*Matt stormed out of the porno shop. The fat, bored-looking, middle-aged man behind the counter raised an eyebrow as he slammed the door.

*Laremy pulled out his phone and looked at the picture of his dog that was his lock screen.*

“Well Bugsy, looks like I’ve done it again.”

From Christopher Walken in a Jungle Book Movie:

Schnitzel bob

*Matt was sitting in at his desk in the bullpen of the office of Filmdrunk Inc. After reading about Christopher Walken’s casting in the live-action remake of The Jungle Book, he swiveled his chair in the general direction of Laremy’s desk.*

“Hey Laremy, you remember that 1994 live-action remake of The Jungle Book?”

“Oh yeah, that totally shit one? Man, that film was cray bonk. As soon as they saw the script they should have tossed it in el garbage.”

“It was brutal”

“So bad. Jesus, do you remember that one scene with the quicksand? What a nightmare”

“Wait, what?”

“Quicksand, the dude like got caught or something.”

“There was a quicksand scene in that film?”

“Yeah. What’s wrong?”

*Distractedly, Lieb turns back towards his own desk and wipes his forehead*

“What’s up with you?” Laremy asked.

“Nothing, it’s… I just… I gotta go!”

*Covering his crotch with his jacket, Matt rushed out of the office. Puzzled, Laremy sat there for a minute before noticing Matt left his lunch on his desk. Peeking into it, he noticed a snack pack.

“He probably won’t miss it.”

From Jack Black in Goosebumps:

Schnitzel bob

*Vince calls Lieb on the Lieb phone*

“Get in here, pronto”

*Half an hour later, Lieb show up to the offices of Filmdrunk Inc (est. 1846), sweaty and disheveled from having run across San Fransico, because as if he’s going to pay for bus fare*

“Lieb, sit down. Listen, you’ve been doing great work for us lately, great work.”

*Lieb braces in a state of emotional uncertainty. He’s not sure where this is going, and while part of him hopes for good news, a lifetime of experience has trained him not to expect it.*

“Lieb, do you remember the 90s?”

“Do I… well, yeah, boss, of course!”

“Good. Because from now on, you’re on the 90s beat.”

*Matt looks at Vince, his eyes tearing*


“Yes permanently. Congratulations. Now get outta here, you knucklehead!”

*Lieb walks home in a state of bliss. Never in his life had he allowed himself to dream he would rise to these majestic heights. As he walks into his apartment, he spies his life companion, a Chinese Handjob machine with a blonde wig and ruby red lipstick on it.*

“Honey, I’Ve got great news!”

From Tina Fey’s Hocus Pocus sequel:

Schnitzel bob

In today’s episode of ‘Filmhunks: The making of a blog empire’:

*Vince is slumped over his table, an empty bottle of bourbon tipped over on it’s side by his head. The Lieb phone rings*

“What?” He growls into the phone.

“I’ve got two words for you, Mancini. Hocus. Pocus.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“Hocus Pocus 2 is happening, and it’s the cinematic event that’s going to blow the doors off the internet. Let me write the story”

“Listen, kid. You’ve got talent, I’ll give you that, but your love of camp is blinding you. Nobody gives two shits about Bette Middler these days.”

“Right, but it’s got Tina Fey attached. It’s a slam-dunk, boss!”

“Tina Fey, huh? Alright, Lieb, write it up and get it over here in an hour. And bring over some butter, would ya? These pot-pie crusts don’t make themselves!”

Believe it or not, there were more of these. It’s just a shame the Nobel committee doesn’t award a prize for fan fiction. These are Pulitzer-worthy.

I’m spent after all of that copy and pasting, but I thought one last comment was worthy of recognition, from Alison Bechdel’s Genius Grant:

Stallonewolf: I don’t have a problem with the Bechdel test, per se, I just don’t think that every movie should take place in some fantasy world where women aren’t always gossiping about my junk.

Great, just great. Anyway, I don’t expect all of you to be as good as Schnitzel Bob, but those of you who aren’t assh*les are all special in your own way.

Nominate for next week below.