FilmDrunk

Comments of the Week Through August 29th

COMMENTS OF THE WEEK: Every Sunday or Monday, I try to recognize comment-section brilliance, sometimes with a prize (but really, being recognized as the funniest commenter on a juvenile film blog should be its own reward, shouldn’t it?). Nominate your favorite comments throughout the week by copy and pasting in the comments section below. You can always find this post, and all future CotW-nominating posts, in the sidebar to the right under “MORE”.

This week’s winner was tough to choose. Do I choose the once-in-a-lifetime novel of a comment for the sheer impressiveness of it, or do I go with the one that made me laugh the hardest? In the end, I chose both. Because I am a coward. First, the funny one, Crapbasket.

[From Ghost Rider 2 has a trailer] Crapbasket says: Say what you will about the Ghost Rider films, but given the level of talent involved and the depth of the already established back story, I’m sure that it will be a wonderful cinematic clusterf*ck for argh-tarded sh*t eaters.

Nicely done. Do you work for Entertainment Weekly? Also…

[From “Kung Fu Flid,” the film about a Kung Fu-fighting thalidomide baby starring Mat Fraser] Crapbasket says: Mat got his start in Discovery Channel’s “Flid This House” where he would kick in people’s front doors and flush all their socks down the toilet.

I could reread that comment twelve times, and it would still make me laugh every single one. After the jump, our other winner (you’ll want to read this one, I promise).

From The Writer of Conan the Barbarian Talks about His Movie Bombing:

Morton Salt says: This reminds me of my grandfather. He was born in 1901 and was sent to work on the railroads with his father when he was five. He did that for a few years, but when he was eight, he lost his right hand -his dominant hand -in an industrial accident while trying to fix something that only his little kid’s hands could reach. The point is, he had to stop working on the railroad. By the age of 12, he had become proficient enough with his left hand that he got work in a factory. He worked on the line for 40 years, never advancing in the ranks because of his missing hand, despite the fact that he would probably be more useful as a foreman. He didn’t care, though. He supported his family with the hopes that his hard work would allow them to enjoy a life he never did. He insisted on buying a house, even though he was 40 before the bank would grant a mortgage, and by that time they had nine kids, so they insisted on getting a house with four bedrooms; three kids per room, plus the master (which was actually the smallest). But, at age 52, something happened at the factory. A perpetual fuck up named Bernie was being fired. He drank on the job, came in late, etc. When the powers that be told him of his termination, he flew into a rage. He began yelling and screaming that they were damnable fools for keeping a cripple while firing him. He was talking about my grandfather. He came to the drunken conclusion that if my grandfather couldn’t work, they’d keep him around instead. Bernie approached my grandfather, who at this point knew nothing of the firing, clubbed him with a wrench and knocked him out. He then picked up my grandfather off the floor and positioned himself in such a way that allowed him to put my grandfather’s left hand -his only hand -in the path of danger. My grandfather lost his only remaining hand before anyone could help him, and Bernie fled, never to be seen again. The factory saw no option but to let my grandfather go as well. This, however, did not discourage my grandfather. After some recuperation, he insisted that my grandmother write a letter to the bank explaining the situation, and asking for some time on making the next mortgage payment. They told the bank in that letter all about the railroad accident and reasoned that if Grandpa could come back from that, he would come back from this as well. He would find honest work, and the bank would get its money. This letter was no small achievement, as my grandmother was illiterate. My grandfather pointed to the letters in the newspaper he wanted her to copy, one by one. He could’ve asked one of his kids to help, but he was too proud and didn’t want them to know about it. The letter was sent. When they missed their first mortgage payment, the bank began foreclosure on the grounds of ‘reasonable expectation that further payment would not be forthcoming’. If they hadn’t written the letter, they could’ve missed up to 10 payments without foreclosure being initiated, according to the bank’s own admission. They lost the house. My grandparents gave up their five youngest kids to an orphanage. (My father was the second oldest, so he was spared.) Those four kids (three boys and two girls) were never seen again. My grandmother began working as a crossing guard and at an industrial laundry. My grandfather never did find work. They made just enough to pay rent on a two bedroom apartment. They never complained, never talked about the misfortunes of life, except to wonder aloud about their five youngest kids and to wish them well. I don’t know if they were happy; I never really knew them. My grandmother died before I was born and my grandfather died when I was three, and all I remember is being petrified of the ancient man with no hands. Like I said, I don’t know if they were happy, but by all accounts they never whined about their lives. This hack’s plight reminds me of my grandfather.

Preposterous. How did he point at letters with stumps? Anyway, well done, Crapbasket and Morton. You spoil us.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

[From Baby Goose breaks up a street fight using only half a hug]

Alcoholics Gratuitous says: Hey guys, art may be subjective but hugging is effective.

mastermind says: Hey girl, I might not be the hero St. Marks needs right now, but I’m the one it deserves.

Farthammer says: Kevin Smith and Brett Ratner once got into a knife fight over a jar of pancake butter. Ratner won when Smith had some shit to take care of and what not.

[From Baby Goose cried when he couldn’t rebuild his transmission]

Crapbasket says: Not the first time a tranny made Baby Goose cry.

[From

Moose says: You should see the bumper stickers on the back of Will’s car.
My son’s movie opened number one at the box office.
My daughter released a hit song.
My other son is a failure.

[From Mark and Donnie Wahlberg to open “Wahlburgers” restaurant]

RoboPanda says: Say hi to your burger for me.

Kungjitsu says: No we don’t Digglah Dawgs. It’s awn tha menu as a fackin’ joke, fackin’ queah. Guy’s fackin’ retahded.
Hey Dawnie, you see fackin’ CT get facked by that half dahkie queah pahtna he had on that Real World show or sumthin’?

ChinoMoreno says: Add some fries and meal it, meal it.

Jessolido says: Now seating “One shoe”, pahty of queeahs… I’m just kiddin’ ya, Eddy, get yoah limpin’ ass in heah!

Moose

*everyone bows heads, prepares to say grace*

We give thanks to you, Teddy Basebawl, foah dis bountiful hahvest of Wahlburgahs and deep fried side items. Bless dis meal and all the people at this table, especially little Sully Jr. III, and all the people in the stands at Fenway. And give ouah regahds to JC. GO SAWX!

*all together*

GO SAWX!

And finally, good ol’ Chino, in Random Task convicted in gun rape case, puts a nice little bow on the whole week:

ChinoMoreno says: This is my penis, this is my gun. This is for raping, and this is for raping.

For the newbs, I might also point out that ChinoMoreno is a girl. Anyway, thanks for participating folks. It’s you guys who make this funniest comments section on the internet. God knows it’s not my writing. Hopefully I’ll have more shirts to give out soon, but don’t quote me on that.

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