“There are Four Things Left to Do”
Swords clanged, shields cracked, armor rang with the blows of mortal combat upon the fields of battle. That, and the sound of furious button-mashing and barely audible streams of morally-questionable epithets. This is decidedly NOT Sparta, and most definitely not West Hollywood.
Turbines. Row upon orderly row of the things, laid out on the beach like tombstones dotting the sprawling cemetery that now held the bulk of his race. The exquisite craftsmanship inherent in the individually molded and polished, obsidian blades had its hold on the mesmerized dock worker who heretofore had been content to take pride in days occupied by restoring old prop blades from the wrecks that littered the Eudoran coastline. His had been a solitary but wholly satisfied existence. Until now.
“The Three Flashes of Light Signifying Your Doom”
Debbie took great pride in being the biggest bitch at Sweet Valley High School. A childhood marked by no greater tragedy than her parents refusal to buy her an iPad 3 served as an appropriate foundation of excuse to torment Peggy, the new foreign exchange student from the Ukraine.
“Catnip and 40 Other Ways to Create an Internet”
This would be no ordinary output of ones and zeroes. A76220 had relished thid opportunity for a lifetime. All 648 milliseconds of it leading to this one, crowning moment. This was it. The sound of a cat farting.
Billy Joe Sasquatch
Jordy van Fitzpution
It’s the annual tradition that’s not so annual: The Wayward Cynic’s Running Diary of the Academy Awards! I’ll get right to the action as we join our telecast on the red carpet.
8:22pm: Sacha Baron Cohen shows up as the dictator from his new, similarly-named movie and spreads Kim Jong Il’s ashes on the carpet before promptly being detained and escorted off the premises by security.
8:30pm: We’re underway as Billy Crystal and his synthetic face run through a musical number recounting the year’s most notable film hits.
8:31pm: I’m bored and just turned the channel to “Worst Cooks in America.” Some guy just dropped his pizza on the ground! Oh no!
Thanks to all for joining me for another fun-filled year of recapping the Oscars; see you next year and hooray for Hollywood!
Welcome to The Wayward Cynic’s annual running diary of the great American pasttime’s holiest of holy days: Super Bowl Sunday the 46th! I will cover the game, the commercials, the chips, the dips and the beers, all from the comfort of the Internet.
I miss the old, every-year-a-new-logo format these new logos woefully lack. Woe.
After returning from an epic vacation with my girl, it occurs to me it’s been far too long since I’ve put together a full-fledged trip report. Alas, this report will probably be mainly bullet points and pictures, but take what you can get. You can view the full image galleries here or on Facebook. Enjoy.