Academy Award Best Picture Nominees in 60 Seconds

Spoilers, obviously. 

HER
Theodore: As a recently divorced man, I’ve given up all hope for finding happiness. I guess I’ll just distract myself by buying the latest technology featuring an artificial intelligence lady.
Siri: Thanks for programming me, Theodore! Hey, despite the fact that I’m practically omnipotent with a charming personality to match, I think I’m oddly attracted to you.
Theodore: What? Really? But I’m a loser.
Siri: I know! I have everything but a body, but somehow that just makes me horny all the more. Let’s find new age ways to have sex with each other!
Theodore: This kind of makes me uncomfortable, but I’m still excited to have a girlfriend. Let me introduce you to my friends.
Friends: They warned us that gay marriage would lead to this sort of thing. No, just kidding. Honestly, we’re just so happy that you’re happy! Dating computers is all the rage right now. It’s almost like we’re the losers for being in relationships with other human beings.
Theodore: Siri, where’d you go? Siri? Siri?
Siri: Jesus, Theodore, just because I’m artificial intelligence you programmed doesn’t mean I have to be there at your beck and call. That’s not how you treat a girlfriend.  
Theodore: Wait, no, I love you, I’m sorry for being presumptuous.
Siri: Yeah, look, I’m not sure this is going to work out. Besides, I kinda met this other artificial intelligence guy and we’re in love. He just gets me on this whole other all-knowing, body-less level that you could never understand. Take care, Theodore.
Theodore: I’m so pathetic that even my computer program dumped me.

AMERICAN HUSTLE 
Christian Bale: It’s probably the copious amount of side boob you’re sporting, but I’m mysteriously attracted to you. How about we partner up for some con artistry… and sex?
Amy Adams: Hmm, you’re old, bald, fat, sleazy, married, and a criminal… what’s not to love? Besides, I have a fake English accent I’ve been practicing, so let’s go swindle some people!
Jennifer Lawrence: And I have a Jersey Shore accent I clearly haven’t been practicing, but it’s supposed to sound real! Oops, I accidentally set my house on fire for a second time, I’m such a ridiculous klutz!
Christian Bale: Just ignore my wife, Amy; I do. Now let’s get to conning!
Amy Adams: I found the perfect mark. His name is Bradley Cooper and he’s definitely not an FBI agent.
Bradley Cooper: Actually, I am an FBI agent, and you’re under arrest for fraud! That said, if you want to use your con artist skills to help me trick unethical politicians into incriminating themselves, you can go free.
Christian Bale: Fine, we’ll help you. Pssst, hey Mayor, do you like bribes?
Mayor: I do, I do like bribes!
Amy Adams: Then here, why don’t you take this briefcase?
Jennifer Lawrence: Whoops, were you guys keeping your conning on behalf of the government a secret? Because I might have accidentally blabbed your story to some involved parties. Again, what a klutz!
Christian Bale: I can’t believe this woman. Sorry for trying to con you, Mayor, but I have an idea…
Bradley Cooper: We’ve got the Mayor right where we want him. Now all I need is that briefcase back and I’ll be the toast of the town.
Christian Bale: Have you never seen a con artist movie before? There’s always one last double crossing. We tricked you. The money’s gone, as is your career as a hotshot FBI agent.
Bradley Cooper: NOOOOOOOO!!!


GRAVITY
Houston: Congrats on your final spacewalk, Clooney.
Clooney: Like most “just days from retirement stories”, I’m sure I’ll survive this trip… as soon as Bullock fixes the spacecraft.
Bullock: I’m trying to hurry, but my tools keep gliding away from me because I forget about this no gravity thing. I’m such a newb.
Houston: Abort the repairs, astronauts! There’s fast-moving space debris flying your way… and it’s Russian.
Clooney: But that’s the worst kind! [Debris pummels them, killing the rest of their crew.] Well that sucks.
Bullock: [hyperventilating] I’m almost out of oxygen.
Clooney: I leave you breathless, huh? It’s not that inappropriate for me to start flirting with you now, right? Tell me about yourself.
Bullock: My daughter died and I have nothing to live for.
Clooney: Way to lighten the mood for me even after I’ve dragged you to safety. We’ll be fine here until… [Debris pummels them again; the pair is left tenuously connected to the spaceship by a cord.] This isn’t going to hold the both of us.
Bullock: I’ll never let go, Ja—I mean, Clooney.
Clooney: This is getting a little derivative. I’m just going to float off to my death now. [presumably ad-libbed] Before I die, just admit that I’m sexy.
Bullock: [Watches as Clooney vanishes and then gets in the shuttle just as her oxygen supply ends.] Whew, finally I’m safe. [Alarm goes off.] JK’s the shuttle’s on fire. Better rush to the escape pod and jet out of here… no, wait, the escape pod’s out of fuel. Now what? [Starts barking like a dog maniacally.] Oddly, I’ve never felt more human. Now I’m ready to die. [Turns off oxygen supply.]
[A single tear drop falls and floats toward your face thanks to 3D technology.]
Clooney: I’ve returned to you in a form of a hallucination so I can mansplain to you how you can still save yourself, you just have to…
Bullock: That sexy astronaut is right, I still have one last option. [miraculously returns to earth/saves self] I’m still not sure that I’ve regained the will to live, but here goes nothing.

NEBRASKA
Old Lady: Your father keeps trying to walk all the way to Nebraska to claim a million dollar prize he thinks he won.
Will Forte: Dad, this is a scam. This is the same sweepstakes form they send to everyone.
Old Man: Huh? What?
Will Forte: Fine, we’ll road trip to Nebraska so you have proof that it’s fake.
Old Man: Huh? What?
Will Forte: We can stop and visit your extended family that you haven’t seen in years on the way.
Old Man: Huh? What?
Old Man’s Family: We want some of this million dollar prize we’ve been hearing about.
Will Forte: Wait, it’s not real, guys.
Old Man’s Family: Don’t try to cut us out of the winnings!
Old Man’s Former Friends: We want some of that money, too!
Will Forte: Now that Mom arrived by bus, let’s get out of here, Dad.
Old Lady: Woo! I’m flashing my vagina at a tombstone! I’m still not as crazy as your Dad, though.
Old Man: Huh? What?
Will Forte: Dad, you fell, I have to take you to the hospital.
Old Man: I never loved you.
Will Forte: You said one coherent thing to me this whole time and it’s that? Thanks, Dad.
Old Man: Huh? What?
Will Forte: Anyway, my Dad is here to claim his million dollar prize.
State of Nebraska: Nope, you’ve been scammed.
Will Forte: See that, Dad? The money isn’t real.
Old Man: Huh? What?
Will Forte: Let’s just fucking go home!

 
PHILOMENA
Young Judi Dench: Hey, sisters, y’all never taught me any sex ed and now I’m a pregnant teen.
Evil Nuns: Oh dear! The Catholic Church is here to help girls like you. And by “help” we mean force you into slave labor, steal your child, and sell it to a wealthy American family.
Old Judi Dench: It’s been 50 years since I lost my son, but I’ve never lost my faith in God. Please give me any information you have on my child.
Evil Nuns: We lost all of those documents in a fire… that we set intentionally to destroy any evidence of our wrongdoing. We’re so sorry we can’t be of more help.
Journalist: I’m a down on my luck high-profile reporter, but I guess I could try to be of assistance to a commoner like you. [Flies to America with Dench to track down her son.] I don’t know why I didn’t do a simple internet search before flying all the way out here, but I just discovered that your son is dead.
Judi Dench: [cries] What else can you tell me?
Journalist: He was a prominent D.C. Republican in the 80s. Also, he was a closeted homosexual who died from AIDS.
Judi Dench: What a lovely life! One I could have never provided him with!
Journalist: More importantly, he traveled to the convent in Ireland to try to find you. He’s buried there, even. [yells at nuns] You know all along that this mother and son were trying to reconnect, but you lied to them! Shame on you!
Evil Nuns: Who cares? That’s what sinners get! Burn in hell!
Judi Dench: Oh well. You may have intentionally ruined my life, but I forgive you anyway, sisters.
Journalist: You have taught me so much about faith, Judi Dench. 

 
CAPTAIN PHILLIPS
Captain Tom Hanks: Do you think I’ll encounter pirates at sea?
Mrs. Tom Hanks: What? Honey, no, you’ll be fine.
Captain Tom Hanks: Hey, crew, let’s run a pirate disaster drill.
Crew: This is a waste of time, Captain!
Captain Tom Hanks: [radios Coast Guard] Wait, now I really think that pirates are approaching us.
Coast Guard: They’re probably not pirates, Captain, chill out.
Somali Pirates: Haha, we boarded your boat and we’re holding you for ransom.
[tense moment where the pirates almost kill Hanks, but they don’t]
[another tense moment where the pirates almost kill Hanks but they don’t]
[yet against “tense” moment where the pirates almost kill Hanks but they don’t]
Captain Tom Hanks: The longer I’m held hostage, the more I realize it’s going to be hard for this film not to appear kind of racist. 
Disney Exec: Yeah… but pirates are so in right now and Johnny Depp wasn’t available for another one yet, so we thought we’d take a chance.
Captain Tom Hanks: Any chance I can cash in on some white privilege to prevent these pirates from killing me?
Navy: [shoots all the pirates dead]
Captain Tom Hanks: [hysterical] I told you there’d be fucking pirates! 


THE WOLF OF WALL STREET
DiCaprio: Hi, I’m an asshole – that’s basically all you need to know, but somehow it takes three hours to tell my story. Mainly because I refuse to spare a single sexy detail.
Jonah Hill: What’s life like working on Wall Street?
DiCaprio: Cheating people out of millions of dollars!
Employee 1: Being drunk as shit all day!
Employee 2: Having sex with strippers in the office!
Employee 3: Hiring midgets to degrade themselves for our amusement!
Jonah Hill: Sorry, I stopped paying attention because I’m high on Quaaludes.
FBI: As much as we’d like to bust you guys, there’s nothing more American than gross capitalism excess, so carry on for now.
DiCaprio: Hmm, if I left this job, I’d retire as one of the wealthiest men in the country and avoid getting myself in what is sure-to-come legal trouble.
Employee 1: Or you could divorce your wife and get a hotter one.
Employee 2: Buy a yacht and a private jet.
Employee 3: Drink and drive for kicks and hire a good lawyer to get you out of it.
Jonah Hill: And you could elaborately smuggle money to Switzerland to hide your assets.
DiCaprio: How could I give up on all of that? Maybe it’s the Quaaludes talking, but I’m not quitting. I’ve got away with it this long, what’s going to stop me?
FBI: We can overlook you stealing millions, but not billions. You’re finally under arrest, but we’ll grant you some leniency if you implicate your friends and colleagues in the crimes, as well.
DiCaprio: What? Never! I would never do that. Never. Never ever. [the next day] Okay, fuck it, I’m a piece of shit who’s never cared about anyone else, of course I’ll rat out all of my friends.  

12 YEARS A SLAVE
Shifty Dudes: Hello, free black man in the North. We’d like to pay you money for you to do work for us.
Chiwetel: That sounds swell.
Shifty Dudes: Sure, just come over here where no one can see us and… HAHAHA! Just kidding, we’re white people! We don’t play black people to do work! We’re selling you back into slavery!
Chiwetel: You can’t do this! I’m free!
Fassbender: I’ll buy this slave. Throw him in with the rest of mine.
Chiwetel: Sir, with all due respect, I have papers that prove I’m free.
Fassbender: Shut up and pick cotton.
Lupita: Sir, I also don’t like being a slave.
Fassbender: Shut up, pick cotton, then have sex with me later ‘cause you’re hot.
Lupita: Please kill me, Chiwetel. I can’t stand being raped by our master each night.
Chiwetel: I can’t do that! Besides, I have a plan to get us free. And by us, I mean just me. Hey, one legitimately nice white man, will you send a letter up north explaining that I’m really free?
Brad Pitt: I will never understand this distinction that you have that you are somehow inherently more “free” than your misfortunate comrades because of the same law that oppresses you, but if I can help one person escape this miserable life, I will do it.
Sheriff: Fassbender, it turns out this man is free. I hope however long you’ve been forced into slavery hasn’t been that awful, Chiwetel.
Chiwetel: It’s been 12 years. I mean, the movie has done little to distinguish time, so this could have all happened in a matter of months, but the title says 12 years, so it must be so. Goodbye, other slaves!
Lupita: Goodbye, Chiwetel. Wish I could come with you, but I’m just gonna hang back and keep getting whipped nearly to death.  


DALLAS BUYERS CLUB
Dr. Mrs. Ben Affleck: I’m sorry to tell you that you have HIV, Mr. McConaughey.
McConaughey: Horseshit! I ain’t no fucking homo!
Dr. Mrs. Ben Affleck: Okay, then maybe you had unprotected sex with a scabby lady who looked like she was about to die in a dirty bullpen?
McConaughey: That’s just the rodeo lifestyle, toots! Anyway, I don’t need your medical advice; I’ll just prescribe myself some drugs, booze, and strippers.
Dr. Mrs. Ben Affleck: Actually, now that you’ve taken such poor care of your body, you have full-blown AIDS. But whatever, it’s not like the medicine we can give you at the hospital is of any use anyway.
McConaughey: Huh, well I got me a liberry card and I learned all about better medications for AIDS that the U.S of A refuses to permit, so now I’m thinking of starting some kind of drug smuggling business. If only I had a business partner… say, what is that queer man doing in a dress?
Jordan Catalano: I always wished I had been cast to play either Rickie or Rayanne instead, so I figured why not try both at once? Despite your animosity towards me, I’ll be your business partner. We may not find the antidote for AIDS, but I think I’ll find the cure for your homophobia.
McConaughey: Whatever, you’re just a junky transgender prostitute; I wouldn’t care if you die.
Jordan Catalano: [Dies.]
McConaughey: [Cares.] Hey, sorry for stealing all your patients with my sketchy drug empire, Dr. Mrs. Ben Affleck, but you know I’m prolonging lives better than the medical community ever would.
Dr. Mrs. Ben Affleck: What you lack in ethics, you make up for with savant-like scientific knowledge. Our relationship is such that I would probably have sex with you if you weren’t my patient… and you didn’t have AIDS.
McConaughey: That’s okay, I’ve lost so much weight for this role that I barely want to take my shirt off for once.
The Government: Stop giving drugs that work to people who would die otherwise! It’s illegal!
McConaughey: Looks like I’m gonna have to sue in order for justice to prevail.
Judge: Although the FDA is clearly corrupt for allowing its rich friends to make a profit by promoting the wrong drugs while also forbidding you from using and sharing the medicines that actually help, our Constitution protects the FDA’s right to be dicks and slowly let you die, so case dismissed.

Gays Everywhere: Oh well, you’re a hero for trying, McConaughey!

McConaughey: Shut up faggots! [whispers] …who I’ve developed a soft spot for. [Dies… not immediately, but eventually because, you know, AIDS.]

Philomena: Best Picture Nominees in 60 Seconds

WARNING: spoilers and sarcasm

Young Judi Dench: Hey, sisters, y’all never taught me any sex ed and now I’m a pregnant teen.
Evil Nuns: Oh dear! The Catholic Church is here to help girls like you. And by “help” we mean force you into slave labor, steal your child, and sell it to a wealthy American family.
Old Judi Dench: It’s been 50 years since I lost my son, but I’ve never lost my faith in God. Please give me any information you have on my child.
Evil Nuns: We lost all of those documents in a fire… that we set intentionally to destroy any evidence of our wrongdoing. We’re so sorry we can’t be of more help.
Journalist: I’m a down on my luck high-profile reporter, but I guess I could try to be of assistance to a commoner like you. [Flies to America with Dench to track down her son.] I don’t know why I didn’t do a simple internet search before flying all the way out here, but I just discovered that your son is dead.
Judi Dench: [cries] What else can you tell me?
Journalist: He was a prominent D.C. Republican in the 80s. Also, he was a closeted homosexual who died from AIDS.
Judi Dench: What a lovely life! One I could have never provided him with!
Journalist: More importantly, he traveled to the convent in Ireland to try to find you. He’s buried there, even. [yells at nuns] You knew all along that this mother and son were trying to reconnect, but you lied to them! Shame on you!
Evil Nuns: Who cares? That’s what sinners get! Burn in hell!
Judi Dench: Oh well. You may have purposely ruined my life, but I forgive you anyway, sisters.
Journalist: You have taught me so much about faith, Judi Dench. 

We Don't Go to Church on Christmas Eve Anymore

For most of my life, I've attended TWO services on Christmas Eve: one protestant and one Catholic to appease both sides of my family. I'm no longer obligated to attend either, though, not because I'm old enough to make my own decisions, but because the churches have forced our hands.

The protestant church stopped being a requirement when the married minister got a teenager in the congregation pregnant. Surprisingly, church-goers found it difficult to stomach hearing the dude preach the good word after that, my family included.

After a prolonged process, the church hired a new pastor. He's easily 350 pounds. I can't help but guess that he was chosen in part because they figured no teenage girl would want to have sex with him. I suppose we could start going to church again because of the new pastor, but the whole thing is tarnished. Christmas especially - all of the celebration over a religious birth from a young, unwed mother still hits a little too close to home after the last guy, if you get my drift.

Right now you may be thinking, "If that's what stops you from going to the protestant church, the Catholic church story must be downright scandalous!"

It's not, though. There are no sexy secrets that I know of at this particular Catholic church, but even supposing that the priest knocked up a teen girl, they'd just call the baby a miracle and put it in the manger for the nativity play. By now, Catholics have just learned to ignore the hypocrisy - the sermon could literally be about the virtues of being a ChiMo and you'd still have one thousand people sitting in the pews because it's Christmas Eve and you can't skip church on Christmas Eve.

I am the exception that gets to skip church on Christmas Eve, however, because the Catholic side of my family is now mostly dead, so there's not much peer pressure. Besides, the sermons are awful. The priest literally just reads Christian-themed email forwards as his sermons like the bogus one about the hero marine punching an atheist professor (fucking liberals!) on God's behalf. One Christmas, the sermon was about a disfigured man who started going to an Australian Catholic church for solace - the priest then hooked the ugly man up with a talented plastic surgeon and made him into a handsome man. That man went on to be… ACTOR MEL GIBSON! First, I don't get what this tale had to do with Christmas, but second, as any idiot who has visited Snopes can tell you, the story is absolutely not true. Then again, if the priest had a problem dressing up falsehoods as fact, he'd be in a different profession altogether.

Even with all of that in mind, the number one reason we don't attend the Catholic service anymore is actually the choir. It is the worst choir you've ever heard. It's a buncha adults bleating out Christmas hymns as if they were goats. They couldn't be more out of tune if they tried. Maybe at rehearsals half of them practice going sharp, while the other half goes flat just to mess the congregation. When I briefly entertained the thought of attending mass this year, I then remembered this one hellbeast's annual solo/slaughtering of "O' Holy Night" and decided that the nicest gift I could give to my ears this holiday is not putting them through that.

So, yeah, no church for me. And I'm pretty okay with that.

Merry Christmas from my family to yours!

17 With Him

Hmm, is this an appropriate way to interact with a Facebook "friend" I haven't had contact with in many years?

Person of the Year

There, I fixed it for you.

I mean, the Pope is still one of the surprisingly raddest dudes around, butlet’s not pretend that Edward Snowden didn’t twerk all over our fascist oppressors this year.

(And as someone who has twice been Time's Person of the Year, I obviously know what I’m talking about.)

What Would I Say?

I admit it, I really like What-Would-I-Say because it's essentially Horse eBooks but with your own words! Usually it's hard to laugh at your own jokes, but when you didn't actually write them, the laughs flow freely.

That is a potent pill the government is prescribing.

Better safe than sorry.

Any guesses? Mitt Romney, obviously.

Well?

Yeah I am!

You can't say I didn't try to uphold journalistic integrity.

It's best not to.

It was time to pay up.

The revolution won't be televised, but it will be a grumpy gus.

This one's a thinker. She's not trying to kill herself, she's just trying to make it look like she tried to kill herself, I guess. 

What a disappointment. This is why people don't read.

Ugh, tell me about it.

Don't Stop Beilievin'

SoRrY dOn'T nOrMaLlY sHaRe StUfF lIkE tHiS, bUt I nEeD a HuGe FaVoR fRoM tHe BiG gUy.

Which Mode of Transportation Does God Use?

A lot of people have existential questions about God, but my main query is a bit more focused: How does God get around? Helicopter? Boat? Rollerblades?

Rather than going to The Bible, I consulted the same source I use for all of my religious-based inquiries: the pop/rock hit songs of 1995. Here are the three ways that God stays mobile:

   

1. BUS

Song: One of Us - Joan Osborne

Lyric: "What if God was one of us? 

 Just a slob like one of us? 

 Just a stranger on the bus

trying to make His way home?" 

Like any good stranger on the bus, you can bet that God avoids eye contact, puts his belongings beside him on a seat so no one can sit next to him, and fumbles with his change when paying the fare.

   

2. TRAIN

Song: Everything Falls Apart - Dog's Eye View

Lyric: "I met God this afternoon

riding on an uptown train.

I said, 'Don't you have better things to do?'

He said, 'If I do my job,

what would you complain about?'" 

Though it seems like a step up from the bus, God appears pretty snippy while riding the train. Telling a dude that he's shirking his deity duties because humans are just going to be unhappy regardless is hardly the act of a courteous passenger.

   

3. CAR 

Song: Counting Blue Cars - Dishwalla

Lyric: "We count only blue cars, skip the cracks in the street,

and ask many questions like children often do.

We said, 'Tell me all your thoughts on God

'cause I would really like to meet her.'"

The big reveal here isn't that God drives a blue car, but that He is actually a She. God or not, it seems a little unsafe for her to be operating a motor vehicle given what we know about female drivers. Stick to public transit, sweetie!

Ashton Kutcher Plate

At the risk of boasting, check out this commemorative art that Ashton Kutcher commissioned of himself that I now own!

In 2005, Bernie Mac and Ashton Kutcher starred in the film Guess Who - a modern bastardization of the Sidney Poitier classic Guess Who's Coming to Dinner - where a white guy meets his girlfriend's black family and race-based hijinks ensue! I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that none of you have seen it. I certainly haven't seen it; heck, my friend worked on the movie, and I don't think even he's seen it.

It is because my friend worked on the film that I now have this fine art. As a sign of gratitude, Kutcher gave the cast and crew painted decorative plates. You might be thinking "How uncharacteristically awesome of Ashton Kutcher to give the crew a thank you keepsake!" Before you get carried away, take a closer look at the plate.

It's a spoof of the Last Supper and Kutcher has cast himself as Jesus Christ. The black cast, inoffensively obviously, surrounds Kutcher as his disciples. It takes a special kind of ego to deify oneself… and an even greater ego still to pass it off as a "gift" that the crew would have any interest in.

Apparently, it's been my friend's closet for years because what do you do with something like that? I guess just pass it off to someone you know that would find it ridiculous enough to appreciate.

And I do! I would actually eat off the plate, except that on the back it warns: "Food consumed from this vessel may be harmful." Mmmmmm, how deliciously toxic! Guess I'll just have to display it on my mantle instead.

The back of the plate also features Ashton's signature and the word "SHALOM." I googled that, and I guess that during filming, Kutcher improvised that his character was Jewish, but the director ultimately cut all references to that out. It's nice to know that this plate is not just a testament to Kutcher's egomania, but also his ill-conceived creative input.

One day I will sell this on eBay and make TENS of DOLLARS!

Eating with Cannibals

I'm currently watching a documentary called Eating with Cannibals on a friend's Netflix account because I apparently have little shame. In truth, I'm probably less embarrassed that I've given into morbid bloodlust-y curiosity than I am about the fact that the people who share the account are going to see that title as recently watched and exclaim "Kevin!" I can only imagine what Netflix will see fit to recommend to us after my interest in this flick.

The National Geographic host/narrator who is venturing into remote Papua New Guinea villages where cannibalism has occurred is so fucking smug. He can't help but be condescending and a little grossed out by it all. Like, dude, you came to these people specifically because you knew they'd tell you about incidents of cannibalism - don't act so shocked when they tell you exactly what you expected to hear. Also, would it kill him to spend some time asking them other questions about their culture before getting right into "So, how do humans taste?" It just seems a little rude.

Best fact I've learned so far: men and women taste the same.

Apparently, they only eat people they suspect to be sorcerers… and occasionally for revenge. But pretty much everyone says they haven't eaten a person in a long time. The host, meanwhile, is like LOL, yeah right, liars, I can smell it on your breath.

Oh great, now he's speculating that if missionaries hadn't come to the villages and spread Christian values, they'd probably just be eating each other left and right. If I had swallowed any human recently (and I've pretty much copped to the fact that I'd try it not too long ago), I'd be gagging on it right now.

The only way this documentary ends well is if these Papua New Guineans eat this nosy, judgmental host guy. It's not every day a hunk of white meat wanders into town and asks mouth-watering questions about how you would cook him, so seize the opportunity!

A Wise Man

A wise man once said: Believe in a higher power and you'll be taken care of.

He only said it once, though, because he was a wise man after all and came to realize how dumb that sentiment is.

R. Kelly Party

Look, I'm not advocating turning 30… but if you HAVE to do it for whatever reason, do it with an R. Kelly party, 'cause the other night was a lot of fun.

I basically forgot it was my birthday. It was all about Kells, and that's how I wanted it. We projected his music videos on the walls: Trapped in the Closet, the religious tunes, sex jams, the radio hits, more sex jams, sing-alongs, his step dancing tracks, and still more sex jams, obviously.

Everyone should get laid off just before their birthday, because that gave me a lot of free time to prepare for the bash. For example, I homemade made a 6-foot tall R. Kelly cutout. I emptied a color ink cartridge on my home printer and butchered a piece of foam insulation in the process, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. People thought I had it professionally done, which is too kind of a compliment for how it looked, but I will accept the compliment considering how many hours I put into the damn thing.

With my sudden free time, I also made a bunch of "lyric hats" for everyone to wear. It was construction paper headwear that included some of the most absurd and raunchiest R. Kelly song lines, and I think it helped set the tone.

Then again, the tone was probably mostly set by everyone "sippin' on coke and rum". Thankfully, it got wild without turning into a shit-show… I'm going to chalk that up to the maturity that comes with 30!

There were water guns - some filled with water, some with rum - so that people could squirt on each other freely. Yellow streamers accentuated the doorways. And just when you thought all the urination jokes were complete, a sign on the restroom door restricted where (read: who) you could pee on.

My highlight of the night was when people brought out the cake and 40 people sang "Ignition" instead of "Happy Birthday." That transitioned into "Echo" "Real Talk" "Bump n Grind" "I Believe I Can Fly" and some step dancing. I barely dance at this stage of my life, but many of us were going for it. For as ridiculous as the man is, R. Kelly also makes some great music.


Fuck losing my job, I think I found my next career: party planning. I mean, I'd prefer it if people just hired me to do R. Kelly parties for them because I've got that one down and it's better than any other theme you'd dream up, but I suppose I could learn to make life-size cutouts of other things, too. THINK ABOUT IT.

Why Gay Marriage Is a Threat

I should have expected that by posting a fairly trite (though sincere!) article about gay marriage on the internet that it would attract a lot of crazy commenters, but it hasn't stopped shocking me each time someone angrily responds that eternal damnation, the deterioration of society, and humans marrying dogs will surely follow. Like, that's real? People actually use these arguments still?

Also, I'm not even pro-gay marriage, I'm just pro-marriage equality. If marriage equality were to mean that NO ONE could get married, I'd be just as (if not more) supportive of that. (Attending weddings, ugh.)

Honestly, gay marriage seems nearly as stupid, boring, and heteronormative as straight marriage. Granted, if some people have the right to make that decision than everyone should have the right to make that decision… I'm just not prepared to advocate for that decision. I don't trust the government, so why would I want it defining my personal relationships for me?

For real, gays: it's a trap! When same-sex marriage is legalized (and it's inevitable and almost certainly super soon), the best response is, "Thanks, but no thanks." Just because African Americans are now allowed to join most country clubs doesn't mean black people should go get a membership. 'Cause fuck that nonsense.

Gay marriage IS a threat. Not to family values, but to the queer identity. The radical, political lifestyle that intentionally positions itself outside of the norm, rejecting the traditions and societally pressures. Though sometimes the queer identity is an attempt to model desired change, it is also important as a form of resistance to monoculture. There is no freedom if we're not permitted to deviate.

Homophobia is a political tool. It has been imposed on society to obtain power. How many people have voted against their self interests for candidates who slash the education budget, squash unions, and further wealth disparity just because he or she (most likely he) defined marriage as between one man and one woman? It's an issue intentionally wielded as a distraction from society's real problems. Convince people that gays are destructive and they'll become blind to other more important issues.

Now, public perception has changed and the majority no longer fears homosexuals. As you can see from the unprecedented corporate and political support in my article, those in power know that they can no longer use homophobia to their advantage as effectively. So it's time for a new tactic: bring on the gay marriage. Mainstream homosexuals. Turn them into traditional consumers who become complacent, non-questioning members of society.

I know some gay people have waited their whole lives to feel normal, and if gay marriage helps them to achieve that, I'm happy for them. Just remember that the same establishment that felt it could dictate who you can love was using you before… and with this impending "progress" plans to use you again.

The Beacontown Beavers

This season, each of the dodgeball teams in our league named itself after an 80s movie reference. I had two stellar suggestions if I say so myself.

In fact, I did say so myself with St. Elmo's Fire Crotch. Apparently, my teammates weren't ready to do more than shake their heads at the thought of portraying an alleged pedophile as angelic. Plus the team's redhead wasn't wild about it. Fair enough. But Elmo is a fire crotch if I've ever seen one, so it wasn't entirely inappropriate.

When Harry Met Sally Jessy Raphael was much better received. That's three 80s references in one! Despite getting the most support from my teammates, our captain overruled (booooo).

So instead, we're the Beacontown Beavers. That's a reference to the basketball team in the Michael J. Fox movie Teen Wolf. It's not so bad being a beaver:

I had on my full yellow garb and short athletic shorts in honor of dodgeball playoffs last night. The Beacontown Beavers did pretty well last night, no thanks to me. I couldn't catch for shit last night, gosh dam it, but hopefully my sexy legs at least distracted the other team.

I'm optimistic about our team's chances in the finals next week because it's basically been foretold. Not just because our shirts already read "Champions" (boy, wouldn't that be embarrassing if we were wrong?) but because Teen Wolf's theme song is "Win in the End." With a boring tune and lyrics that a second grader could have written, I've really come to like how awful and 80s that song is:


"Win in the end. I'm gonna win in the end."

The Pope Party: Perhaps The Most Offensive Thing I've Ever Done

The departure of Pope Benedict XVI reminds me of one of the most offensive things I’ve ever done: throwing a giant Vatican-bashing bash on the day Pope John Paul II died.

To be fair, it wasn’t intentional. Well, not entirely intentional. Allow me to explain.

At my college, the Suites Around the World party was one of the most anticipated annual traditions. All of the recycling money collected from the student body’s empty cans and bottles (so obviously we’re talking serious $$$) gets redistributed to the students to buy more alcohol (in some sort of circle of life for alcoholics) for this international affair. About 10 suites in the dorm would volunteer to pick a country and serve customary booze and food. For example, Mexico would serve Tecate and tequila, Japan would serve Saki, and Germany would serve various German beers.

I should note that this is a progressive liberal arts school, so don’t equate it with those supposedly “cultural fraternity/sorority parties” that turn into black-face and offensive stereotypes that you read about in the news. Generally, the Asian exchange students would represent their home country, the Chicano students would host Mexico, and the white kids would do something boring like Australia or Ireland. Yes, the party was primarily an excuse to get drunk. I also won’t claim I “learned” much about the countries from these parties. And I won’t argue that nothing about the party was problematic, but I stress that it was about traveling to the different suites to taste the different spirits and foods, not put on costumes and do bad impressions.

My suite, however, did become super offensive… even though we were only trying to be semi-offensive. A month and a half before the party occurred we had to select a country, and we wanted to choose something funny. After searching a map, my suitemates Kurosh and Alice thought it would be amusing to pick Vatican City. It was approved by the school administration, and I was told by a friend on student council that the deans had chuckled at the idea.

A few weeks ahead of time, we received the recycling money and started preparing. We bought red wine for “Communion” and Sprite and vodka to mix as “Holy Water.” Our snacks were crackers, cookies, cheeses, breadcrumbs… anything that was small and round that could stand in as Communion wafers.

We made trips to the local Family Christian store and bought religious paraphernalia to hang on the walls. I printed out a poster-size photo of John Paul II. We dressed the mannequin up as a priest (though on his bottom half, he still wore a speedo – his signature attire). We put red curtains up over the shower stalls to turn them into confessionals. Alex rigged a sound system to play Gregorian chants in the bathroom. It was an amusing set up and we were psyched for the party.

A few days before the party, Alice announces, “Wait, did you guys hear that the Pope is sick?” There were questions about whether it was appropriate to have the party while he was seriously ill. But here’s something you have to remember about John Paul II: in his last several years, he was repeatedly “gravely” ill. I kind of figured they kept exaggerating that nonsense so it seemed miraculous each time he recovered. “He’s not going to die! He’s always supposed to die but he never does!” I argued. We continued putting the finishing touches on the party, all while keeping an eye on the news… just in case.

On the day of the party, the Pope did in fact die. As ironic as it was, the best we could muster was nervous laughter. We had been planning this party for six weeks, back when John Paul was still fine, but most people who attended wouldn’t realize that. There was a major crisis of conscience and we considered cancelling the party. Some tried to quickly formulate an alternative country for us to do. In the end, since everything was already decorated and purchased, we just decided to accept eternal damnation and move forward with the party. One friend wrote “In Loving Memory” over the Pope poster.

I know some people who boycotted our suite that night because they found it offensive. Others came in and toasted to the Pope. But, sadly, a lot of people who attended had no clue what was going on. College kids who live in a dorm aren’t necessarily aware of current events on a Saturday. I remember a conversation between two drunk girls who were holding on to each other for support: “Wait, didn’t the Pope die today?” “I don’t think so.” “Oh, okay.”

As if things weren’t disrespectful enough, by midnight things got pretty debaucherous. I can’t imagine the Pope would be too keen to see people grinding against each other as Missy Elliott played. The Communion wine was getting chugged. Some people (not me) started hooking up in the makeshift confessionals (okay, maybe me.) Even I had to do some Hail Marys when I spied someone do a line of cocaine to the echoes of the Gregorian chants.

Years later, I still think back and shake my head at the party that turned more tasteless than a Communion wafer. It’s the kind of party you would never get away with if you actually planned for it… so I appreciate the 11th hour Divine Intervention that helped turn our night into a tacky-fest. Y’all can judge us for going forward with the party anyway, but it’s not like we covered up chronic pedophilia, so let’s remember to keep the sinning in perspective, okay?

Best Picture Nominees in 60 Seconds

Crap! The Oscars are in a couple of days and you still haven't seen many of the films yet, have you? Don't worry - I've broken all of the Best Picture contenders down into short scripts just as I did for the Best Pictures last year. BE WARNED that they all contain SPOILERS and SARCASM. In other words, if you want to see a film untarnished in the future, maybe skip reading that one.

Argo

Embassy Employees: Ack! Political unrest has led Iranians to threaten the lives of Americans in their country. We must hide.

U.S. Government: Ack! We need someone who can sneak our embassy employees out of Iran.

Ben Affleck: You’re going to need a suave hero, someone who doesn’t play by the rules, but still gets the impossible done… I know: I’ll cast myself.
U.S. Government: Okay, here are list of ideas we have…
Ben Affleck: Those ideas are trash! We’re going to pretend to be a Canadian film crew that wants to film a fake movie in Iran.
Hollywood Execs: And we’ll help because a story like this will be good material for real movies, too!
Embassy Employees: This plan will never work! We’ll be caught for sure.

Ben Affleck: It sure will work. I, Ben Affleck, have never ever failed at anything. And if you want to look less conspicuous, you could all take off your ridiculous oversized eyeglasses.  

Audience: Isn’t this supposed to be a true story? I heard they got the embassy employees got on the plane with no problem, but the movie just had them encounter like ten implausible problems in a row where they almost get caught.

Ben Affleck: “Based on a true” story means I can change it all I want. It’s a director’s discretion. Just like my decision to throw in a gratuitous shirtless scene. 

Audience: Ah, so it’s less historical, and more just your run of the mill suspense film. Why is it getting so many awards then?

Hollywood Execs: Because we love any movie that celebrates Hollywood and portrays us as heroes. 

Audience: It might have been more interesting if you turned the fake movie into a real one and just actually created the cheesy science fiction movie from the screenplay you gave to Iran.

Ben Affleck: Ooh, I’ll direct that! But my character has to be awesome and we’re going to need to write in a nude scene for me. 

Silver Linings Playbook

Bradley Cooper: I have bipolar disorder, I’m obsessed with my estranged wife who has a restraining order against me, I freak out when books don’t have a happy ending, and I destroy things in a blind rage when I hear the song “My Cherie Amour”… but I’m not crazy.

Jennifer Lawrence: My husband recently died and I was so distraught that I had sex with all eleven of my coworkers before I was fired… that’s not even a plausible backstory, but I’m sticking too it…  and I’m also not crazy.

Family Members: Actually, you are both crazy, and that’s why we’re trying to fix you up… the same as we would if you were both fat or black or disabled.

Bradley Cooper: But we have nothing in common!

Jennifer Lawrence: [lists the many medications she’s taking]

Bradley Cooper: Fine, we have something in common, I guess we can be friends. But I’m going to use you to try to reconnect with my wife.

Jennifer Lawrence: And I’m going to lie to you about what she’s saying and force you to enter a dance competition with me.

Robert De Niro: Son, you’re spending way too much time dancing with that girl when you know my superstitions dictate that I need you doing and wearing certain things when my favorite sports teams are playing. You’re responsible for my tens of thousands in recent gambling losses!

Jennifer Lawrence: Now would be a good time to point out that your superstitions make you even crazier than us two, but since an unhealthy obsession with sports and gross mismanagement of money is considered pretty commonplace in America, I’ll instead argue that your team has done better when your son spends time with me.

Robert De Niro: Oh, you’re right! My superstitions live on. I’ll go double or nothing by betting on your dance competition.

Jennifer Lawrence: Don’t do that, we’re amateurs entering a professional competition and we suck.

Robert De Niro: Nonsense, I don’t take advice from crazy people!

[ridiculous dance competition sequence]

Bradley Cooper: Remember how I said I only like happy endings? Well watch us force one now: we just got the bare minimum score to win back my dad’s money and despite showing no interest previously: Jennifer Lawrence, I love you.

Jennifer Lawrence: And I love how we tried to turn this movie into a romantic comedy in the final thirty seconds. [make out]

Zero Dark Thirty

CIA Agent: Give us information! [tortures terrorists]

Maya: I’m watching you do this, expressionless. Just like the movie, I swear I am staying neutral on the subject of torture.

CIA Agent: You gotta teach people not to be violent dicks by being a violent dick, Maya. You’re in the CIA, toughen up.

Maya: I am tough! Now watch me use psychological tricks instead of physical ones to get information from this guy.

Terrorist: I’ll tell you everything!

CIA Lady: Hi, Maya, I’m the CIA’s other tough bitch. But I’ll let my guard down and we can be friends.

Maya: Thanks I’d like that.

CIA Lady: Oops, but now I also let my guard down when interacting with a terrorist. [explodes, dies]

Maya: [cries] Let me wipe my tears up with this old file that’s of no use… oh, hey, this brief we’ve had forever has all of the secrets! I found Osama.

CIA Heads: Really, Maya? You make a compelling case and tend to be on point, but we’re still skeptical, mainly because of mild misogyny.

Maya: Fuck! Shit! I’m swearing in front of you to prove I’m tough and competent.

CIA Heads: We’re convinced. Let’s send some soldiers to Osama’s home.

Soldiers: [kill some people including Osama]

Maya: Yay? [cries for America] 

Django Unchained

Christoph Waltz: I hate slavery! But I’d like to buy a black man to work for me and make me money. Hmm, that kind of still sounds like slavery when I say it aloud…

Django: All right, Mr. Bounty Hunter, I helped you out. Free me now?

Christoph Waltz: That, or you could be my assistant, and you could use the money we earn on bounties to buy the freedom of your slave wife.

Django: Sure. [kills a LOT of white people] Cha-ching! Now let’s go get my dearest Broomhilda.

Leonardo DiCaprio: Welcome to my plantation. I make niggers fight each other to the death. And I have a pretty nigger named Broomhilda who you can have your way with, if you’d like. Let me say "nigger" a few more times to make the audience even more uncomfortable and so you don't somehow miss that I’m a racist asshole. Nigger, nigger, nigger.

Samuel L. Jackson: I don't like this Django nigger! I'm a slave who says "nigger"because I'm a new twist on an Uncle Tom character. Say, Master Leo, I think Django and Christoph are really paying us a visit to take back Broomhilda. 

Django: Uh oh, the jig is up. [shoots nearly 100 white men] You're dead! You're dead! You're dead! You're dead!...

[somehow more white men with guns arrive]

Django: [shoots them all] You're dead! You're dead! You're dead! You're dead! You're dead! And Samuel L. Jackson, now you're dead, too!

Broomhilda: Oh, Django, you've killed almost the entire Southern population... my hero!

Django: Let's ride off into the sunset as this awesome soundtrack plays.

Les Miserables

Hugh Jackman: [singing] For twenty years I’ve been a prisoner for committing a petty crime/But now I vow to be a better man after completing my time

Russell Crowe: [singing] Your supposed self-improvement will never last/I will ruin your future, just as I have your past

Anne Hathaway: [singing] I lost my job and now my kid and I are destitute/I sold my teeth and hair and now I’m a prostitute

Audience: [not singing] Wow, Anne, you’re giving an amazing performance, you’re easily the best part of this film.

Anne Hathaway: [singing] Too bad I’m already dying and things will fall flat/There’s still two hours left, so good luck with that! [dies]

Hugh Jackman: [singing] I promise to take care of your child and love her each day/I don’t think I mean that in a sexual way

Cosette: [singing] That’s too bad because I’m hot and my skin’s milky white/Just look at this Revolutionary experiencing love at first sight

Marius: [singing] It’s true, as you can probably tell from the bulge in my pants/I inexplicably care for you as much as a people’s uprising in France

Eponine: [singing] Wait, Marius, let me add a love triangle to this plot!/Oh never mind, instead I’ll just get shot [dies]

Marius’s Friends: [singing] We’re outmanned and will surely fail this mission/Let’s wait to fight the French army when we have more ammunition

Marius: [singing] No, we must fight on, we must be strong-willed/ [everybody but Marius dies] Oh crap, I just got all of my friends killed

Hugh Jackman: [singing] Russell Crowe, you have done your best to provide me with strife/But to show you I’m a better man, I will save your life

Russell Crowe: [singing] Because a criminal saved my life, I must kill myself now/My logic is as flawed as my singing voice, ciao! [commits suicide]

Hugh Jackman: [singing] Now that my oppressor is dead, I can finally be happy/So why is it that I suddenly feel so crappy? [dies of illness]

Cosette: [singing] I have a suggestion that I hope is not harried/Since everyone we know is dead, let’s get married

Marius: [singing] It almost seems unfair that the two most annoying characters have avoided beheading/But I guess we can have our friends’ ghosts sing at our wedding

Lincoln

Abraham Lincoln: Man, being the president is hard, but I vow to find a way to end both the Civil War and slavery, or my name isn’t Abraham Lincoln.

Sally Field: And your name is Abraham Lincoln! I mean, you’re played by Daniel Day-Lewis, but you’re so convincing in this role, it’s easy to forget. Meanwhile, it’s hard to see me as anything but Sally Field. Only my character is crazy… so, in other words, I’m still just Sally Field. [screams and cries]

Joseph Gordon-Levitt: And I play Lincoln’s son, but I still distractingly seem just like Joseph Gordon-Levitt, except that I’ve suddenly forgotten how to act.

Abraham Lincoln: I love my family, but y’all are a mess. Anyway, how can I secure more Congressional votes in order to abolish slavery?

Secretary of State: Well, politicians are a bunch of racist dicks. But if you bribed them, you could get the votes.

Abraham Lincoln: I pride myself on having ethics, but maybe if it means ending slavery, I could support secretly buying votes. Do the ends justify the means? I guess that’s something the audience can think about as we have repetitive meetings for two hours.

Tommy Lee Jones: As a member of Congress who is secretly in love with my black housekeeper, I support the Thirteenth Amendment since all humans are equal.

Congressmen: Boooo! We won’t end slavery if that means black people are equal. Slippery slope!

Tommy Lee Jones: Okay, even though you all know I’m lying, if I pretend to have less progressive views on race, will you agree to vote to end slavery? 

Congressmen: Yes... After bribery and crises of conscience, we have narrowly voted to end slavery.

Minor Black Characters: [smile]

Abraham Lincoln: Huzzah! What a great, heartwarming way to end the film.

Stephen Spielberg: Actually, for no particular reason, I'm going to skip ahead in time and end the film with you getting shot in the head. 

Abraham Lincoln: I should have stuck to vampire hunting.

Life of Pi 

Pi: Let me tell you a story about the time I got shipwrecked and survived on a lifeboat with a tiger for nearly a year. [tells two hour story]

Other Guy: Wow, that is quite a story; I’m particularly impressed with how long you managed to make it despite the fact that almost nothing happened other than you being on a small boat with a tiger. Considering that no one even saw the tiger once you reached land, surely people must have trouble believing this story is real.

Pi: Yes. You could also interpret the tiger as symbolic, an extension of my id. 

Other Guy: I mean, you were on a boat with plenty of time to dream up this metaphor and lonely enough to invent an imaginary friend...

Pi: Well, which story do you believe?

Other Guy: I’m going to believe the tiger story. [winks]

Pi: Good because we have this whole faith vs. reality theme going here and we’d really like people to lean pro-religion. Plus, that helps justify all that money we spent on the CGI tiger.

Amour

Old Husband: I love you, honey, I would do anything for you.

Old Wife: Thank you, sweetie. [has stroke]

Old Husband: This is unfortunate, but I’m here for you, dearest. How can I help?

Old Wife: No! I can do things for myself. [has another stroke]

Old Husband: Now you definitely can’t do things for yourself. But I love you so I am happy to help.

Old Wife: argarhkfgdsffdgkcfgh Don’t let them put me in a home. Dpdfglkcnklgnerngndjf

Old Husband: I promise, my love.

Adult Daughter: Dad, you really need help, you can’t take care of mom on your own.

Old Husband: I can take care of her just fine!

Old Wife: sdgihdfinbncgeirgjidjg I’m in so much pain. Aerhlsjrthgjszrithkjfgbllkdklg

Old Husband: Okay, I’m in way over my head now, but I made a promise to my wife that I wouldn’t get real care for her.

Old Wife: fghergfbdoghjedrhgjdhjd

Old Husband: Hey, so no big deal, but… [suffocates wife with pillow]

Old Wife: mmmfffmmm! [dies]

Old Husband: Love you! [dies, too]

Beasts of the Southern Wild

Hushpuppy: My name’s Hushpuppy and I live in a community outside of the levee, isolated from normal society. I love my dad and I’m going to be with him forever.

Father: Forever? [clutches heart] If only you understood foreshadowing, Hushpuppy. Besides, I don’t even know how to show you proper affection. Fuck, I have you live in your own shack so I can maintain my own space. But you’re six and old enough for that responsibility.

Hushpuppy: I’m gonna make myself cat food for dinner. [accidentally burns down shack]

Father: Damnit! … Uh oh, looks like a hurricane is coming.

Neighbor: I’m moving to the other side of the levee before our whole podunk town floods.

Father: You pussy! You should stay here and risk drowning with the rest of us. Of course, that’s easy for me to say because I’m already dying. Oh yeah, did I mention I’m dying, Hushpuppy? But you’re six, so it’s time for you to learn to fend for yourself.

Neighbor: Everything we had was destroyed in the flood and now government officials have moved us to a shelter for our own safety.

Father: The doctors checked me out and said I need a surgery to save my life. But fuck modern medicine! I’ll die if I want to. It’s not like I have a kid to look after.

Hushpuppy: Maybe I should try to find my ambiguously dead or deadbeat mom? [swims aimlessly in the ocean and befriends both a water buffalo-like creature and a stripper]

Father: Well, I’m dying now, so it’s a good thing you’re six and all grown up. I guess if you ever need anything you could ask that stripper lady who offered to watch out for you. [dies]

Hushpuppy: [sets father’s body on fire] My name’s Hushpuppy and this film is ending on a triumphant note suggesting that I am empowered and ready for the challenges ahead… despite all common sense to the contrary.

(For the record, not all of the films are as bad as these descriptions might suggest... but they make it so easy to be snarky about.)

Look Out, Heaven

Look at this shitty thing my mom received for Christmas from one of her friends.

This is what happens when she regularly gets together with her friends to drink wine and make crafts. I mean, I know it's a good time for her, but someone must have drank and crafted too much if they thought that this was a reasonable present.*

Firstly, what does that text even mean? Are there people who get really sad when snow melts and need to be comforted? Like, "There, there, that snowman you built is with God now. He's a snow  angel." I'm also not sure how to go forward. Should I be making more snowmen so that there will be more snow angels? Or should we stop making snowmen altogether so that there's room enough for the rest of us in heaven? I don't want to get to St. Peter and have him say, "Sorry, there's no room at the inn, we've had an influx of snow angels."

Secondly - and I know I started over-thinking this, but the blame for that rests on that ridiculous poem - I have to nitpick about how the design of this thing spits in the face of physics. I don't know if you've ever built a snowman before, but a snowman doesn't melt bottom to top. The head is actually the first thing to melt: It's the smallest ball and the one that the sun has the most contact with. So, like, as cute as this craft is supposed to be, I suspect foul play was involved. For the head to be so intact, someone must have come and attacked its torso with hairdryers or something.

It all reminds me of a question (inspired by the Simpsons maybe?) I asked my Sunday school teacher as a kid: "If you're decapitated on earth, do you get your head back in heaven?" Given what remains, is this new snow angel going to have a head? Because if heaven is full of headless snow angels, that sounds terrifying and I don't want to go. I might start murdering snowmen just to avoid that.

* All of this criticism is moot if this was a regift. Because I would pawn that crap off on someone else pretty quickly, too.