by Jason Mallory on September 1, 2010
Much like a guy in a gorilla suit in a Master P video, John Lithgow slam dunks his performance as the Trinity Killer with a basketball made of crazy into a hoop made of his sister’s ashes. Gold tank rolls onto court, confetti falls. Master P makes everyone say Uggghhhhhh.
Am I crazy or did Rita get hotter? She looks like she’d smell like coconut suntan lotion all the time. They should make perfume that smells like coconut suntan lotion. Or cologne, I guess. I mean, put some other fancy stuff in there to justify the outrageous price. Like tea leaves or gold shavings or fortunes from fortune cookies. And the fortune says, “You smell like coconuts.” And a monkey that can read thinks to himself, “It’s true.”
Old man serial-killer-hunter Lundy is back this season in a jaunty hat. Gotta tip your hat to a rakish hat. Especially if you’re wearing a rakish hat, too. Then you’re both tipping your hats in a Möbius strip of hat tipping. To you, sir. No, to you, sir. I insist, to you, sir! And so on. Until you’ve got two skeletons in rakish hats in mid-tip to one another, jaws open. The Dead Gentleman’s Hat Club. Sounds like a fun place to play cards. You’d play with coins from the underworld used to pay for safe passage into the land of the dead.
Speaking of passage from the land of the dead, Dexter’s dad pops up every five minutes in the form of a ghostly memory giving advice and being a general nag. He won’t leave Dexter alone for five minutes without saying some sourpuss shit. Dexter, don’t forget my code, Dexter hide that body, Dexter you’re juggling too many identities blah blah blah. Damn, bossy ass ghost. That’s “bossy-ass ghost” not “bossy ass-ghost”. What I want to know is, why does Dexter bother imagining him eating turkey dinner like the rest of his family and friends in the Thanksgiving dinner scene? If I thought about a deceased family member while riding on a roller coaster I wouldn’t imagine them riding the roller coaster with me. Or if I remembered something wise that Ben Franklin once said while I was having sex, I wouldn’t take the extra step of envisioning Ben Franklin there in the room spanking that ass. I guess that’s what an ass-ghost does.
Big Spoiler Alert
My good friend The Classless Chap not only spoiled the big twist at the end of the season, but he did so on Facebook. In his status update. I think the only way he could have done it more effectively is if he had hired a plane with the spoiler written on a banner streaming behind it to fly over the city. And paid the pilot extra to crash into my house so I’d be injured and have to go to the emergency room. And then bribed the nurse at the hospital to write the spoiler on my chart so it was the first thing the doctor reads out loud to me. And paid the doctor to legally change his name to Dr. Rita Dies so it was written on his lab coat. And then came to visit me in the hospital with a bouquet of flowers arranged to say The Trinity Killer murders Rita in the bathtub in the final episode. Wow. He’s really sinking a lot of money into spoiling Dexter Season 4 for me in this hypothetical situation.
Well, if you haven’t seen it yet, I hope you haven’t read this far. Unless you are that coconut-smelling reading monkey. To you, sir- I tip my hat, merely for your ability to read and your glamorous hat. No, to you, sir. I insist, to you, sir!! Looks like me and this monkey are going to be tipping our hats to one another for a long time. Here I come, Dead Gentleman’s Hat Club!
by Jason Mallory on August 30, 2010
Eric Bana is naked every time he uncontrollably leaps around in time, like if Quantum Leap starred a bachelorette party stripper. Did any of you ladies need something put right that once went wrong? Speaking of stripping, me and some friends were trying to find bad movies to watch on Netflix and we settled on a movie called Ghost In A Bikini. To be fair, it was categorized as horror. I’ll tell you what’s horrifying- seeing some dude sucking on a lady’s nipples a minute into the movie. More ghost, less bikini! Well, more bikini, too. More clothes in general is what I’m saying. Not that I’m horrified by the act of nipple sucking. Babies won’t shut up about the whole thing, but honestly I don’t see the hoopla. All I’m saying is, Netflix- don’t say it’s a horror movie and then show a skin flick. What if I’d shown Ghost In A Bikini at my church group’s weekly horror movie showing? The deacon’s Fangoria cap would have flown right off his head and he’d be spitting holy water all over the youth minister’s GWAR shirt as soon as he saw that errant nipple.
Rachel McAdams is about to marry the time traveler and then poof he time travels right out of his tuxedo. Then he shows up old as hell. Even the bride’s father is like, damn he’s old as shit! Is it even legal to marry an ancient mummy? Then the old version of Eric Bana disappears and the young Eric Bana is back and he’s all, “Oh hey did I miss anything? Let’s dance to Broken Social Scene’s cover of Joy Division’s Love Will Tear Us Apart, even though that’s an odd song choice for a public ceremony celebrating our plans to not have a doomed romance.” Then they’re on their honeymoon and jumping up and down on the bed in their wedding clothes oh hell no they’re not he gone he time travel! Shazam bitches!
I got fitted for a tuxedo yesterday at Men’s Wearhouse. One of the employees looked like a silver haired Andy Warhol. He was so fabulous he made Ziggy Stardust look like Richard Nixon. And he made Richard Nixon look like David Bowie. He made a lot of things look like other things. I bet if you dated a girl that worked there she’d talk about him all the time. Oh, you won’t believe what Fabuloso said today! Fabuloso got his cape caught in the tie thresher today! What?! What is a tie thresher?
Spoiler Alert
You better believe the time traveler’s wife is the time traveler’s widow before the movie is over. You know, for a guy with an amazing ability to travel through time, he uses it almost exclusively to hang out with his wife. That’s like being able to fly and then using your flying ability to fly your girlfriend to a late showing of Sex and the City 2 at the dollar theater. Which, by the way- Fabuloso hated. He was screaming and throwing popcorn at the screen and waving his opera glasses around. He was like, Ooooooweeeee! Then he pulled his ascot out and started rubbing the movie theater manager’s bald head with it. That dude does not know how to act at the movies.
by Jason Mallory on August 27, 2010
INVENTION 1
THE XBOX CONTROLLER/HOMEMADE ICE CREAM MAKER
How do you eat ice cream out of it? Hold the Xbox controller above your head and press “I”. For iced cream, the most delicious of all the creams. Vanilla, chocolate, butterscotch. It doesn’t matter, this thing can make it. Is it an ice cream flavor? Yes, now it’s in your mouth. In fact, that’s the tagline for this amazing device. “Yes, Now It’s In Your Mouth!”
Should you eat out of something you put your hands on all the time? Well, wipe it off first! This isn’t the year 2099! You still have to clean up after yourself. How is the ice cream made? Just pour milk and sugar and salt and maybe bananas in the top of the controller. Now put it in the freezer. Do you keep your television and Xbox in your giant walk-in freezer? I hope so. Wear a coat!
I drew both inventions from this round-up on the back of an envelope asking me to switch cable providers. That’s supposed to be an ice cream cone and an Xbox controller there on the left but it looks more like a Who from Who-ville is about to sit down to dinner at his kidney shaped dining room table. As you can see, he has five empty plates and a decapitated head.
INVENTION 2
AN ICED CAR ROOF
This is essentially a bag of ice and water lining the roof of your car. If your car is like mine, with intermittent air conditioning, the high summer temperatures can be brutal- especially here in Atlanta. So what you do is you install this iced water bag, which comes with its own refrigeration and cooling system, based on the same technology used in the ice cream making Xbox controller, patent pending!
When the heat becomes unbearable and you’re stuck in traffic listening to Jazz 91.9 FM (the jazz of the city!), just yank on the handy cord and the bag will release a freezing wintry mix on your head and the heads of your passengers. Just like if you teleported to the North Pole for a second. Or a snowman teleported into your car, but he’s dying. As you can see above, I’ve illustrated the car with drops of water and ice raining down on the interior of the car, but it looks more like the Who-ville cops have located our serial killing Who and are about to ram him with their car. Maybe he’s like the Dexter of Who-ville. Look out, ethical murderer Who! They found the bodies you hid at the base of Mount Crumpit!
If you’re wondering, yes- you go back to being hot after the ice melts. And now you’re soaking wet, too. But in that muggy steamy way it gets here in Georgia. It’s like I told you before- this ain’t 2099! You should have used that money to get your AC fixed.
by Jason Mallory on August 25, 2010
The first person I met in Red Dead Redemption’s multiplayer mode shot me dead where I stood. I took two steps toward him like a newborn baby and he pumped me full of lead. I had entered Red Dead Redemption’s Free Roam area, where you can ride a donkey around and interact with strangers on Xbox Live. Unfortunately most strangers on Xbox Live are horrible trolls with high pitched troll voices and little troll nicknames like HALOxxx_KILLSPOT23 or MURD3RCL0WNHEADHSH0T_HANNAHMONTANABESTOFBOTHWORLDS. Even the nice ones are impossible to understand. This one dude asked me to join his posse. I was talking to him on my super cool Xbox controller headset. “This is my first time playing multiplayer,” I said. “How does a posse work?”
“Ha, ha” he said, “they’ll do that.”
“Who’ll do what?” I asked. “You got to…you got to….go there.” he replied. What? “Are you talking to me?” I asked. Silence. His horse stood in front of me. I rode in circles around him. Me: “What is our posse about to do?” Him: “It’s hard the first time.” No shit, Yoda. I should have put a knife in his ribs.
Later, I was playing a co-op mission with strangers. In the lobby, waiting on the mission to start, everyone was punching each other. A blond man chased me and punched me until I fell in the dust. Then a woman punched me. Everyone was punching me. The man jumped and down. The woman ran in circles. This was my team.
When the mission began, everyone whistled for their horse. I accidentally got on the blond man’s horse. The blond man shot it in the head so I couldn’t ride it and I fell on the ground. They rode off and left me behind and I had to run and run to catch up. When I got to where the fighting was, most of my team was dead and one guy refused to leave a cannon he found, shooting it in roughly the same spot over and over and over. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! “I’m a cowboy!” I imagined him thinking to himself, “I like the cannon cause it boom and big kid pants.”
I saw on my radar one of the other players had become Most Wanted. I tracked him to the saloon in Armadillo. He was hiding out on the second floor. I walked into the first floor of the saloon. He shot me in the head and I died. I reappeared near the saloon. I came up the stairs on the other side. I peeked over the window to aim at him. He put another bullet in my head. I reappeared again and tried the outer balcony. I crouched next to the entrance and poked my head around. BAM! I was dead yet another time. I left him alone. Let some other fool go after him. But my pride, oh my pride stung.
I hunted another fugitive the next day, chasing him over the plains. He must have seen my dot on the radar racing toward him and known it was coming. “You don’t know what’s coming, son. Oh, you’re gonna get got!” I said to him in my mind and also out loud. I pulled out my Volcanic Pistol. I arrived at his dot on the radar. He was nowhere to be seen. I activated dead eye and shot a man off his carriage. An innocent man, it turned out. My quarry was hiding behind a rock. I got got! I didn’t know what was coming, son!
I was riding a raft with my friend Sam, holding off wave after wave of enemies. I stepped off the raft into the river. I drowned. OH I’M DEAD I yelled into my stylish Xbox headset. I couldn’t help but think of how this must be what hell is like, a hot dusty place where the mad and the evil and the foolish fight endlessly but never truly perish, reappearing moments after death. A place where even the water is death.
I appeared in a Mexican town having traveled there instantaneously via wagon wheel. I materialized next to an old Mexican woman who was not another player, just a character in the game. I brandished my rifle at her. She held up her hands. I holstered my gun and whistled for my horse. I rode away. Another player had become Most Wanted.
