Joseph tackles this huge obsession with help from the Three Bears of Star Wars knowledge: Actor/comedian Sam Landman (knows too much), actor Zoe Benston (knows too little), and RiffTrax writer/performer Bill Corbett (knows just the right amount.)
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I saw a lot of odd and awesome things at the San Diego Comic-Con. My favorite was this:
Batman taking a walk.*
There were many people cosplaying Batman, but this guy was the best. He was a full-on, bad-ass, Christopher Nolan-films Batman with an iron jaw and cold blue eyes peering out of the darkness of his grim mask.
And he was walking down the sun-drenched marina boulevard.
The boulevard is behind the convention center. Not that many Comic-Con attendees are out there. They came to San Diego to buy exclusive My Little Pony toys and perhaps catch a glimpse of Joss Whedon eating a taco.** They did not come for the sun and ocean. So the boulevard is a mix of Comic-Con attendees and people who just, like, live in San Diego or something.
Almost everyone who passed the Dark Knight felt compelled to say out loud, “It’s Batman!” There are a few phrases in our culture we compulsively say out loud regardless of how obvious the statement might be:
“It’s hot.”
“It’s cold.”
“It’s Batman.”
Some tipsy dudes who were not with Comic-Con exchanged fist bumps with Batman. Still overcome with the need to share the obvious, one dude said, “Dude, we just fist-bumped Batman!”
A small child approached Batman. His father bent down, his Comic-Con badge proudly displayed, and said, “If you’re going to take a picture with Batman you better put a smile on your face.”
And he did.
This is my second year going to Comic-Con. Before I went the first time people warned me about it like I was headed to a war zone. Bring your own food! Carry an oxygen tank! Tape your wallet to your flesh so you can feel it being ripped off of your body! Wrap your soul in protective armor to defend from the giant corporate monster that is Comic-Con!
I recognize a lot of the snark is accurate. It is crowded, expensive, corporate, and there’s nothing quite as depressingly ironic as watching a dude dressed as Hawkeye entirely miss the urinal then leave the bathroom without washing his hands.
But I like it.
Both years I’ve attended the convention, the streets of downtown San Diego have been covered with signs proclaiming that Comic-Con is “Celebrating the Popular Arts.”
The first year, I thought this was smooth marketing speak to say, “Yes, it started out as a comic book convention, but now there are panels with LL Cool J about NCIS: Los Angeles. They’re both popular. Just let it be.”
This year, when I saw the signs saying “Celebrating the Popular Arts” I was elated by the word “popular.”
I started my career as a writer and a comedian writing comedy sketches and plays within the confines of the world of traditional theater.
There are many things I love about traditional theater.
The attitude toward the concept of popularity is not one of them. Theater tends to retain a disgust with the “popular” back from the days when almost everything on television was a crappy, repetitive sitcom. Popularity often brings with it the implied suggestion that you are dumbing your art down to the lowest common denominator to get butts in the seats. Of course, all theater productions want to get butts in the seats. So, particularly in small to mid-size theater, the dangerous word “popular” gets translated into “important,” “relevant,” or “Shakespeare.”
So when I saw the word “popular” proudly plastered all over the town, I started thinking about what it actually meant to Comic-Con–both my personal experience of the event and the event itself.
Over the last few years, I’ve been branching out to do a hybrid of storytelling and stand-up comedy around the country. I’ve been writing spec scripts for TV shows and movies and web series. I wrote a book about the wide world of geekdom. It’s the work that has brought me to Comic-Con to frolic in the sun with Stormtroopers of all shapes and sizes.
This year, I performed at the comedy and music geekstravaganza, w00tstock starring Paul and Storm, Wil Wheaton, and Adam Savage. The audience for this show is a big pack of self proclaimed nerds. I did one piece aimed at the target demographic about Star Wars told as a collection of tweets. I’ve also noticed that geeks don’t need every piece of entertainment to be geeky. So I took a risk and performed a story about a time I did some commercials with a bear.
Here’s the story. Here’s the commercial. It went well.
The vibe in the room for w00tstock is incredibly accepting. It’s an audience that is happy to celebrate new people and new ideas. For example, the awesome Bonnie Burton and Anne Wheaton did a presentation about putting googly eyes on things.
Even within the traditional world of geek, things are changing. I went to exactly two Comic-Con panels. One was Geek Girl Fashion. The other was Old White Guy With Strong Opinions About Star Trek. Again, there’s quite a spectrum.
I had meetings about writing for two specific properties. One is based on a comic book about superheroes. One is based on a web comic about a charming dude who likes to have fun and makes the occasional Lord of the Rings reference.
The artists I’m meeting with believe in their art and want it to be good. The business people want the art to be good so it will be popular so they can make money. They are not in the least bit subtle about this and it’s very refreshing from my perspective.
Trying to see it from a bigger perspective, Comic-Con is a huge mash-up of artistic interests, corporate interests, cosplayers, fans, famous people, fans trying to see famous people eat tacos, and people trying to make it in any of the many industries represented at the Con.
It’s all tied together by the idea of popularity. Everyone at Comic-Con is interested in what people like. This brings us back to Batman.
Batman walks down the street and everyone wants to take his picture, shout his name, and bump his fist. They know him. They know his story. He is a part of their lives. Geeks, drunks, kids, grandmothers, even birds seemed to screech like they recognized him. All of his incarnations, all of his stories have had a profound impact on a lot of people for a long time.
Batman is popular.
To put it another way, this dark brooding man who dresses up like a bat to fight crime has made a lot of people happy.
What the hell is wrong with that?
Good job, Batman, good job.
*My second favorite costume was Lazy Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had a lightsaber, a Jedi robe, blue jeans, and some ketchup stains.
**I did not see Joss Whedon eating a taco. I did see Matt Smith drinking beer. At last call, someone bought him another beer. He only took one sip of the beer and put it down. After he left, I was very tempted to go drink the rest of The Doctor’s beer. I am not proud.
Filed under Comedy Trip
Random audience volunteer, Julia, shares her obsession with THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF BEVERLY HILLS. Along the way, Joseph gives several helpful suggestions to spice up Julia’s relationship with her husband. Also, swearing.
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Musician Peter Gabriel means a lot to actor Clarence Wethern. Plus, Joseph attempts to explain Minnesota.
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Moviefone kicked up some controversy with its alleged satire article “A Girl’s Guide To The Avengers.” I thought the article was sort of masterful in the way it was tone deaf to both comic book fans and people whose perceptions of gender have evolved since 1972. I posted on twitter that I would be more interested in reading “The Avengers’ Guide To Girls.” So I wrote that.
IRON MAN:
“Look, uh, I like ladies. Kind of a lot. I’ve got this sort of casual, humorous, slightly alcoholic thing going and ladies seem to really like that. I mean, it’s hard to be casual when you wear a giant suit of metal, but I manage to pull it off. I’m a bad boy with a heart of gold that is kept beating by the power of a small arc reactor. So, if you want to have good luck with the ladies, you should follow that age old wisdom: just pretend to be yourself. And pretend yourself is me, Tony Stark. I mean, Iron Man. Whatever. And if anything goes wrong just make a joke. If that doesn’t work, suddenly put on a suit of armor and fly away.”
CAPTAIN AMERICA:
“Um, my last date was during Word War II. I don’t have a lot of really good advice for dating in modern times. I guess, if you have a lady you’re sweet on and your parents are okay with it, take her down to Walgreen’s and buy her a malted at the soda fountain. Also, you should probably purchase a condom. Tony tells me they sell those in Walgreen’s now. Right out in the open. And if you don’t know what a condom is, well, you know how I use my shield to reflect bullets? I’m uncomfortable now. I guess the point is I would rather have Nazis shooting at me than continue this conversation. Do you still have War Bonds? Go buy those and leave me alone please.”
HAWKEYE:
“I don’t even know why I’m in this article.”
THOR:
“In my time on the mortal plane, I have learned that it is quite normal for young men to declare, ‘I’m a god.’ I understand these men are part of a sub-species of human males called ‘douche bags’ and sometimes even ‘douche canoes.’ I do not know if there is a difference between the bags and the canoes. Well, I am not one of these douche things. I am a Norse God. Here are a few things that are important to the ladies both in Asgard and here on Earth: Respect. Honor. Large Mystical Hammers. The ability to summon romantic storms and stuff. They also like clear direct communication. I, Thor, son of Odin, master of Mjolnir, have no problem with clearly and repeatedly saying exactly what I mean in a very loud voice. I really mean that. Thank you for your time. My name is Thor and I am a God. Not a Douche God. An actual God.”
BLACK WIDOW:
“I am a woman. I can’t speak for all women. As a woman, I like to kick people in needlessly complex ways then land in a cool pose. I have to go try to be a spy while hanging out with incredibly loud men who wear bright costumes now.”
NICK FURY:
“It’s all about the foot rub. I got my technique down and everything.”
THE HULK:
“HULK LOVES LADIES! LADIES LOVE HULK! HULK TURN-OFFS! BEING SHOT! TANKS! ATTACKED! DOGS! CONNECTING WORDS!
HULK TURN-ONS! LONG JUMPS THROUGH DESERT! AT NIGHT! SPECIAL SOMEONE! MOVIES! TENDERNESS! HULK LOVE TENDERNESS! TRY LITTLE!
OTHER STUFF HULK LIKE! TREATING PEOPLE LIKE PEOPLE! NOT EVERYTHING ABOUT GENDER! HULK LIKE SMASHING! PLENTY LADIES LIKE SMASHING! HULK SMASH BOX OFFICE DEMOGRAPHICS!
IN CONCLUSION! HULK LIKE LADIES! NO DOGS! TENDERNESS! PEOPLE ARE PEOPLE! HULK LOVE SMASH! THE ACTION! NOT THE SHOW!
THANKS FOR TIME! PEACE OUT!”
There. I hope that helps people in their relationships. If nothing else, I’m super glad to get it out of my system. Thanks for reading.
Filed under Comedy Review
Actor/comedian Ari Hoptman shares his obsession with PRESIDENTIAL TRIVIA. You will never hear another podcast that mentions Grover Cleveland this many times.
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The first Kurt Vonnegut novel I read was Breakfast of Champions when I was in 8th grade. After I read it, I developed this opinion: if you accept that the world is a stupid illogical place, then the world suddenly makes a lot more sense. This has always given me a strange comfort. I wrote this story for a group I perform with in the Twin Cities called The Rockstar Storytellers. Our assignment was to write in the style of our favorite author. Thanks, Mr. Vonnegut. Poo-tee-twoot?
Here is what I know:
Algernon Grimshank was a human being on the planet earth. Like most human beings on the planet earth he had the following problem:
He was very smart and yet most of the time he behaved like an absolute idiot. He knew for a fact that most people behaved like idiots, too, and he suspected most of them were smart enough to know he behaved like an idiot. And yet, he tried to pretend he didn’t, which was of course a very idiotic thing to do.
Algernon Grimshank’s personal idiocy manifested itself like this:
He told people he was a writer.
He would go to cocktail parties and high school reunions and say things like:
“Yes, writing is who I am!”
“Yes, writing isn’t about deadlines!”
“Yes, writing is about truth!”
“Yes, yes!”
Here was the truth:
On any given moment, on any given day Algernon would have vastly preferred to sit on his couch, eat pizza, and stare at a television than lift one finger to do anything even remotely productive.
Many of the idiots on planet earth felt this way. But they all thought it was very important to lie to one another about it.
And so Algernon Grimshank spent a ridiculous amount of his short life staring at things that were blank: pieces of paper, his computer screen, his friends’ faces when he told them his story ideas.
Blink blink blank.
Over the years, older wiser idiots had taught Algernon many glib, cliché catchphrases that would help him become a truthful writer.
One of those phrases was this:
Write what you know.
Here is what Algernon Grimshank knew:
Laziness. Horrible soul-crushing sloth. So, one day he decided to write about that. He did research on his subject by looking up sloth on a website called wikipedia.org.
Wikipedia was an online encyclopedia that any yahoo could edit. Many well-educated idiots doubted its truthfulness when compared to a real encyclopedia that could only be edited by a handful of highly trained yahoos.
This is what the ambiguously educated collective of yahoos knew about sloth:
It is a cardinal sin. Like murder, it merits damnation in hell without the possibility of forgiveness. Algernon found it odd that if you plan on killing another human being but don’t really get around to it—you are just as likely to go to hell as if you actually slit someone’s throat.
Blink blink blank.
Next the website told him sloth was sometimes associated with goats and the color light blue. He noted that a citation was needed.
Then the website told Algernon something so idiotic he doubted its truthfulness.
It said:
Each of the seven sins is paired with a patron demon. The patron demon of Sloth was Belphegor. A demon who was sent from Hell by Lucifer to find out if there really was such a thing on earth as married happiness.
The website also told Algernon that Belphegor was Hell’s ambassador to France.
Furthermore, the website told him that Belphegor tempted humans to be slothful by creating ingenious bits of technology which would waste their time.
Like all demons, Belphegor could only be summoned to earth by throwing a sacrifice of some kind on the floor of your home. The sacrifice required by Belphegor was this: shit.
This caused the following sentence to pop into Algernon’s brain against his will:
The mystical portal between Hell and France is poop.
Finally, the website told Algernon that Belphegor was traditionally pictured as an old man sitting on a toilet. Algernon Grimshank never knew that traditional Judeo-Christian demonological iconography could be this low-brow.
He was curious. He looked around his home for something akin to a big piece of shit.
He picked up a copy of his latest half-finished story and threw it on the floor.
POOF! A puff of acrid smoke filled the room and Algernon found himself in the company of an old man on a toilet.
The toilet-man said:
“Hey Buddy! I’m Belephegor! What can Belphegor get for you? Don’t just stare at Belphegor! Belpehgor is here to help you. You got any questions for Belphegor?”
Algernon threw open the wardrobe of his mind and desperately searched for a few words that might go well together. He said:
“Why are you sitting on a toilet?”
Belephegor responded: “It’s like sitting on the truth!”
Blink blink blank.
“Look, Belphegor made something for you, buddy!”
The demon reached a wrinkled hand into the toilet and threw something to Algernon.
It was this:
A light blue Nintendo 3DS portable video game system. Belpehgor pulled one out for himself. The game loaded in both devices was Tetris. They both began to play.
This is how you play Tetris:
You stare at a blank screen. Eventually different geometric shapes fall from the sky. You use your thumbs to jostle buttons so you can make the shapes connect with one another. Once the connected shapes form a complete line they disappear.
You can’t win at Tetris. It’s just a question of how long until you fail.
Hours passed. Belphegor yelled out things like:
“Yes, I just flipped the l-shape!”
“Yes, I just made six hundred and sixty-six lines disappear!”
“Yes! Yes!”
Algernon was enjoying himself. His eyes burned and his thumbs ached. Pieces of half-digested pizza fell in his gut, piling up into a mass of twisted geometric spires. He felt like an idiot. He should be writing, creating. He wanted to make all his words connect and form lines so he could win his next high school reunion.
He was all conflict and no resolution. His story really should end there. Instead, I am going to do something glib and cliché. I am going to insert myself, as the author, into the story. It’s a lousy trick that reeks of post-modernism.
Here is what I know about post-modernism:
It’s an ambiguous term that educated idiots like to bicker about at cocktails parties. We are currently trying to look smart by debating whether or not post-modernism is dead. It’s difficult to decide since none of us can agree on what post-modern meant in the first place. Personally, I think it means to have the creator comment in a knowing way on his or her own narrative.
So with a poof of light blue smoke I enter the room with Algernon Grimshank and say this:
“Hey buddy, I’m your creator! How can I help you? What can I get for you? I’d like to resolve your problems as neatly and quickly as possible.”
Algernon stares. Blink blink blank.
Belphegor tries to throw me my very own Nintendo 3DS, but I’m ready for him. Wikipedia told me the secret to defeat the demon sloth: zeal.
Each of the seven deadly sins is opposed by one of the seven virtues: chastity, moderation, generosity, charity, humility, meekness, and zeal. Putting them all together, they don’t make a lot of sense. I would not want to be in a room with a generous, humble moderate zealot meekly offering to give their chastity to charity.
Eager to save my protagonist from himself, I launch into a zealous tirade! I say things like:
“Yes, you’ve got to write for yourself, not for anyone else!”
“Yes! Writing is like a fire in your soul and you must release it or you will get burned!”
“Yes! Writing isn’t about coming up with answers it’s about asking questions!”
“Yes! Yes! YES!”
A huge flushing sound fills the room and Belpehgor swirls into thin air–sucked back to Hell. Or France. Yes, let’s go with France. Yes.
Finally, Algernon and I are alone together.
He asks the question we idiots rarely ask one another.
He says:
“Did you mean all that or did you just say that because you thought it would impress me?”
Eventually, these words fall out of my mouth and form lines:
“I want to say whatever I have to to win this story.”
Algernon asks:
“But why?”
I answer:
“So I can tell myself that I’ve done something today. Once I’ve done something I can go home. I can sit on my couch, drink whiskey, and watch hours of television while complaining about how shitty the writing is.”
Algernon asks:
“Will that really make you happy?”
I do my best to answer him truthfully.
I say:
Here is what I know.
Here is what I know.
Here is what I know.
A version of this story is also available in my book COMEDY OF DOOM.
Thanks for reading.
Filed under Comedy Story
Lawyer/activist/random audience volunteer Paul (also known as Brach Twizzler) shares his obsession with REMOVING ILLEGAL SIGNS FROM RIGHTS OF WAY. Many martinis died to bring you this podcast.
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There’s a lot of controversy swirling around the internet about the quality of the recently released film, JOHN CARTER.
Personally, I feel like I’m in a great place to help solve this dispute, because I haven’t seen the film.
I’m like that unemployed friend you run into at the bar when you’re in the middle of a complex and sensitive debate with a close friend. I’m going to plop myself down uninvited (probably sitting on the seat backwards in an annoyingly casual manner) and spew my easy solutions. Brace yourself for an unpleasant barrage that reeks of Leinenkugel’s HoneyWeiss, clove cigarettes, and well-intentioned ignorance.
JOHN CARTER is a movie about a guy named John Carter. He’s played by that guy who played Tim Riggins in FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS. So this film is basically TIM RIGGINS IN SPACE WITHOUT HIS SHIRT ON. I’m pretty sure he also wears one of those skirts you see Romans wear in gladiator, chariot race, or Easter movies.
A lot of people are mad that they dropped “OF MARS” from the title of the film which leads me to believe most of this movie happens on MARS.
Here’s the thing about MARS: You gotta handle that shit carefully. People make so many associations with MARS. The candy bar, the God of War, not to mention the planet itself. You put MARS in the title and people would be like, “is this just going to be a movie about a War God eating candy bars that is narrated by Carl Sagan?”
No one wants that.
So I bet this movie is grounded in something we can all relate to–like working retail. I bet JOHN CARTER works at Trader Joe’s. There’s a lady cashier he likes but he doesn’t date her because he’s got a little brother to take care of after their parents died. I also heard he’s maybe from Civil War time. So maybe his parents died in the Civil War, but right before they sacrificed themselves to end injustice, they put TIM RIGGINS and his cute orphan brother in this passageway that looked like the underground railroad but was actually a time corridor. Tap that sweet Doctor Who demographic.
So after we spend about 20 minutes setting up all the human emotion stuff, something computer generated happens at Trader Joe’s. There’s probably like a close up of a big rack of Three Buck Chuck shaking, then it explodes and the bottles come flying at you (because I know the movie’s got a lot of 3D showings) and a monster probably comes out of a space portal.
Odds are the monster is a SPIDER FROM MARS. Like David Bowie’s band except they don’t play glam rock, they’re less bi-sexual, and they’re actual spiders. So, Spiders are killing people on MARS and it’s like the CIVIL WAR all over again. TIM RIGGINS’ orphan brother and almost girlfriend were probably killed by the exploding wine racks, so he’s like, “Screw it. I have to go to MARS to fight injustice.”
BIG FIGHT when he first gets to MARS. Really slows down the plot, but there are a lot of cool shots where a half-naked TIM RIGGINS is jumping through the air swinging sharp things. Then–BAM–jump cut to an extreme close up of his sensitive yet steely eyes.
We can tell he is resolved:
HE’S GOING TO MAKE SURE THIS MOVIE GOES ON FOR AT LEAST ANOTHER 90 MINUTES.
I’ve also heard that the book the movie is based on had PRINCESS in the title. So, either it’s like a funny thing where MARS culture is different and they name their new hero PRINCESS or he meets a new girl who is the actual mf’ing PRINCESS of MARS.
(You would think that MARS would have a president or an emperor or something because MARS is a planet in SPACE, and most movies that happen in SPACE are futuristic. But for some reason, the people on MARS are still rocking a monarch based government system. So it’s like someone stripped the plot and drama from GAME of THRONES and put it in space. Which is bold, but dangerous. Because you could end up with like an army of geeks pushing their glasses up and fighting about whether it’s “SCI FI” or “FANTASY.” Two genres they like, but sometimes when you put them together, geeks get really mad and say hurtful things to each other on the internet.)
Anyway, the PRINCESS is probably like, “it has been foretold only you, TIM RIGGINS of THE CIVIL WAR and TRADER JOE’S, can protect us from the SPIDERS of MARS and lead our savage race.” (I’m assuming there’s an insulting thing about their pre-industrial culture because people keep comparing this movie to AVATAR. And AVATAR was just DANCES WITH WOLVES in SPACE. So, on a political level, this movie should be called TIM RIGGINS DANCES WITH DAMAGING SOCIO-CULTURAL STEREOTYPES ON MARS.)
Now admittedly, I don’t know a lot about the actual character of this new MARTIAN PRINCESS love interest, but to be fair, I bet the screenwriters and director don’t either. I can tell you one important thing: she’s not played by Lindsay Lohan. Because everybody would be making a big deal out of that. I can also tell you she’s attractive, scantily clad, and odds are she’s written pretty poorly but does some cool fighting to try to cover up the blatant sexism.
Any-hoo, then we have at least 20 minutes of TIM RIGGINS getting used to MARS. This is a mixture of humor, weight training montages, and a scene where he is taught to use an exotic new weapon. Perhaps a whip with a knife and/or electricity on the tip. He’ll also fall in love with the PRINCESS and maybe find another young orphan boy to mentor. Also, the evil people will be plotting to basically cause a MARTIAN CIVIL WAR so we can build the stakes to the BIG FIGHT AT THE END.
But before the end, I understand we have like a dream team of HBO TV stars. We’ve got McNulty from THE WIRE. We’ve got Walter White from BREAKING BAD. We’ve probably got the SISTER FROM DEXTER. Hell, maybe she’s even the PRINCESS. That would blow my mind.
Now, if you have McNulty, Walter White, and Tim Riggins in a movie and they don’t do a drug deal, that’s just a waste of American culture. That’s an insult to high quality drama. Like you just walked up to the podium on OSCARS night and slapped the greek drama mask right in the face.
So, I’m going to say McNulty is a war-torn savage who wants to change the monarchy system, but can’t. And I’m going to say Walter White is the main villain. Maybe the PRINCESS’ dad who turned evil, and used the RED METH ROCKS FROM THE CRYSTAL CAVE to become THE SPIDER KING.
Anyway, there’s a bunch of plot convolutions, but then there’s a BIG FIGHT. Walter White gets his stupid hat whipped off his head by TIM RIGGINS and all the audience can think about is COACH ERIC TAYLOR BEAMING WITH PRIDE and mumbling, “Good job, son, good job.”
Here are some of the things that come flying at the screen in 3D during the fight: SPIDER PARTS, MARS ROCKS, ARMOR, BRAS, EXPLOSIONS, RED METH.
Walter White is killed. This happens on like a hill or a castle. So a bloodied but victorious TIM RIGGINS can be higher than everybody else just like Hitler in every single shot in Leni Riefenstahl’s THE TRIUMPH OF THE WILL.
The war torn savages, even bitter drunk McNulty, scream and applaud like they just saw a really great stand-up act. TIM RIGGINS makes eye contact with NOT LINDSAY LOHAN and allows himself one brief smirk. Camera zooms into his eye and exciting, modern music that doesn’t make you think of science fiction in any way blasts over the credits.
Then, there’s a post credits sequence where TIM RIGGINS is training his new orphan brother to use the lazer-knife whip, and we see something in the distance–what is it?
It’s TONY FUCKING SOPRANO RIDING A SPACE ELEPHANT.
This means war, this means sequel, this means the next movie will be called JOHN CARTER 2, but everybody will call it JOHN CARTER, ALSO just to be smart-asses.
Okay, so that’s probably what happens, but is the movie any good?
Well, beyond certain objective structural and technical elements, movies are SUBJECTIVE.
Personally, I enjoyed imagining parts of this film and other things I pulled out of my ass really pissed me off and made me glad I haven’t seen it yet.
Bottom line–if you like fantasy, if you like space, if you have a high threshold for stereotypes, and/or you just want to see a topless TIM RIGGINS wearing a Roman Skirt, then this is a great way to spend two hours of your life that you will never get back.
All in all, I give JOHN CARTER, ASS KICKER OF MARS two thumbs. Thumbs don’t always need to be up or down. Sometimes they can just be. Hanging out, chill and cool, like TIM RIGGINS.
Tim Riggins forever, man, Tim Riggins forever.
Thanks for reading or whatever.
Filed under Comedy Review
Puppet maker Andy Kraft discusses his obsession with PUPPETS such as Super Grover, Tad Firebush, and The Amazing Cow-Boat. Joseph explains Man-Explainers.
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