Tag Archives: Hero With Own Set of Rules

Frequent IMDB Poster Disappointed in Actress for Getting a Nose Job

Hartford, Conn., Dec. 17, 2013 — Self-proclaimed movie buff and frequent IMDB user Samuel Jones said he was disappointed this week to discover British actress Kate Winslet may have undergone a rhinoplasty at some point early in her career. The “huge film guy” — who regularly posts on the website’s message board under the screen name “BenAfleckSuxBallz” — said the revelation came as a shock and has made him question his opinion of the highly-acclaimed actress.

I really hope it isn’t true,” Jones typed into a post, he’d titled “Why Do All the Hot Actresses Ruin Themselves With Plastic Sugery?!?”

I expected more from Kate. She seems so smart and accomplished, and really down to Earth too. It’s a shame she would be so vain and bow down to Hollywood’s shallow, superficial standards. What kind of example are you setting for young women who look up to you, Kate!?????”

Jones later navigated to actress Emma Stone’s IMDB profile page, where he left a comment on her message board under the subject, “The New Lucille Ball?”:

Emma’s pretty hot and funny. But she should probably do something about that underbite.WTF.”



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Filed under Crazy Person, News, Washed-up actors

Amanda Bynes’ Public Breakdown Affords Opportunity to Feel Better About Yourself

ANY TOWN, USA, June 21, 2013 — The continued public meltdown of actress Amanda Bynes — who starred in that one movie that you refuse to admit you saw in the theater and enjoyed enough to illegally burn to DVD at a later date — affords the perfect opportunity to feel better about yourself, sources confirmed this week. “That poor girl. Someone really ought to help her,” you mumbled as you clicked on a gossip website link titled “Naked Amanda Bynes Caught Snorting Coke Off Surface of I-5 During Rush Hour [VIDEO].” The starlet’s overt signs of mental collapse in recent months provided a fleeting moment of satisfaction with your own personal choices, according to bystander reports. “It really is disgusting how the media is taking advantage of this poor girl,” you said, as you wrote “Can you believe they printed these photos?” in the subject line of an email containing a link to a photo gallery of a semi-nude Bynes pouring ketchup on a wig and smoking crack with an ostrich. “I just don’t get why the press is exploiting her illness for their own personal gain,” you said, before looking at an 800-word photo essay titled “Amanda Bynes: 15 Shades of Crazy Bee-otch” that appeared on the home page of empowering feminist website Jezebel. “I just hope somebody will help her before it’s too late,” you said, before posting a Buzzfeed link “15 Lemurs Wearing Astronaut Pajamas” on your Facebook wall.


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Filed under Crazy Person, News, Washed-up actors

It Happened to Me: I Watched “Ed Hardy: Tattoo the World” in Order to Laugh at his Cheesiness and Realized he’s Pretty Cool

When I first came across the Ed Hardy documentary on my Hulu+ wanderings late one night, I stopped because I was hoping for a laugh and also it isn’t an anime cartoon, because on Hulu+ those are legion.

So, I gave it a go, expecting something akin to this:


Now that I actually take a step back and think about it, I have to admit – this is hard, believe me — Ed Hardy is a pioneer in the American tattoo business. And not just because of his marketing machine. He can actually draw and has studied these gimmicky things he draws over and over. Andoverandoverandover. In fact, he received silk robes from occupation-era Japan from his father who was away traveling. Just 10-years-old, and studying the line and colors of traditional Japanese art. What was I doing at 10? Riding my bike. Falling off the bike more than I’d like to admit.

Now, I know this is a hard pill to swallow considering the plethora of Ed Hardy gear seen in highly-rated douche sitcoms and reality TV shows. Up until now, I, just like others before me, used the Ed Hardy symbol akin to how fish and insects identify dangerous predators in the wild: you see Ed Hardy, you do not accept a shot from the person. It made nights out in Miami clubs much easier to navigate once you could identify who might opine at the close of a lovely evening, ‘it wasn’t rape because you weren’t asleep yet’.

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Filed under Art, Instructional, Unfairly Panned

Off-Hand Joke Results in Howard the Duck Remake

Howard the Duck Lea Thompson

"You think this is degrading? Just wait 'til two seasons of 'Caroline in the City'. You'll be begging for duck on human action then."

Sept. 20, 2011 – Hollywood, Calif. – Matt Hill, a junior executive at Paramount Pictures is reportedly in “extreme agony” after a flip suggestion to remake Howard the Duck was taken at face value and given the green light after 10 minutes of excited conversation at last week’s “synergy/brainstorming” session at the studio.

“We were talking about the box office performance of the new Footloose and the possible remake of Romancing the Stone, when someone mentioned how excited they were about freshening up other cinema classics – his word, not mine – and I said ‘Yeah! Can’t you just picture what we could do with Howard the Duck if we gave him a Twitter account and access to online porn? The kids would just love it!'” Hill said, adding that he was fairly certain he spoke in what could “only be perceived as a clearly sarcastic tone.”

Hill said that instead of laughing — or “better, yet, ignoring me altogether like they usually do” — the other attendees at the meeting began furiously taking notes and nodding in agreement, offering feedback until the meeting ended with everyone slapping him on the back and giving him the thumbs up.

“The worst part came when they started adding their own ideas on how to ‘hip up’ Howard for a new generation of, and I can’t believe they used this word, fans,” said Hill, who studied Comparative Media Studies at MIT and holds a Film and Visual Studies degree from Harvard, and whose cheeky remark will result in a $200 million “reimaging” of the jazz- and tit-loving anthropomorphic duck to hit theaters December 2012.

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Filed under Breaking News, Future World

Jean-Claude Van Damme Saves Future, Runs from Past in Cyborg

Jean Claude Van Damme as Jesus in Cyborg

For God so loved the Earth.

Need evidence that Wikipedia is a tenuous source for information? The site’s page for Jean-Claude Van Damme’s “the fewchur is scary” film Cyborg (1989) includes an 850-word-plus* plot summary. Holy god; 850 words?! Considering the film must have set records for “Least Amount of Pages Included in a Script Since Octagon,” the essay seems dubious at best. In place of storyline, character development and dialogue Cyborg delivers the same 3 tedious flashbacks (always of the mostly silent, now-deceased woman who Van Damage couldn’t save, somewhere in the distant, sad past) in a constant loop, roundhouse kicks and a series of vaguely homoerotic grunts and growls as greasy, half-naked men wearing shoulder pads wrestle around with one another in water.

Here we have an excerpt from the script:

Hero: “Arrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”


Hero: “NnnnnnAAAAAAAAAAAarrrrrrgggggggggh.”

Villain: “OooooorrrrrryyyyyGGGGGGGGGsssssssssaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!”

And it goes on like this.

The semblance of a story involves a gang of futuristic pirates led by Fender Tremolo who is never afraid to slowly remove his cheesedick sunglasses in order to reveal his primary weapon: a pair of piercingly sensitive blue eyes that seem to look directly into your soul. So dreamy. When they aren’t rehearsing for a revival of Tremolo’s off-broadway musical, “Cats: After the Fever,” the pirates drift around the mostly vacant Eastern seaboard trying desperately to control the cure for a plague that has ravaged the countryside and forced Starbucks to close at least half of its franchises. When we meet them, the ruffians have scored very little in the way of booty beyond a few Mad Max wardrobe cast-offs and a cyborg whose futuristic brain is known to house the answer to how to solve a Rubik Cube in less than 5 minutes.

Fender Tremolo from Cyborg

It's just so frustrating. I can get the green side to line up, but this red side...Ugh!

Gibson Rickenbacker (Van Damme) is the mercenary who comes–begrudgingly–out of retirement to scrap with his old opponent, Fender, and humbly serve as a Christ figure before finally saving mankind from the future and etc. Oh, and, AHHHHHHHARRRGGGGGGGHHHHH…there’s this supremely awesome final fight scene:

At Rental Rehab, there’s nothing we love more than a good film-based drinking game as evidenced here, here and here. As such, we offer, The Cyborg Drinking Game. Rules are outlined below:

Gather your preferred post-apocalyptic beverage of choice. This could be a nice bottle of red to symbolize the blood Christ Van Damme shed for you, or a bottle of scotch to help you forget every time you have an extended flashback of your dead lover who, because of your small penis, you were unable to save. Got it? Great, you’re ready to begin:

  • Take a drink every time a cyborg is mentioned, shown or plays a pivotal role in the movie.

OK. That’s it. Game over. At this point, you are entirely sober and can drive yourself to the cinema to watch a movie that doesn’t completely suck all of the air out of the Thunderdome. You’re welcome.

Rental Rehab review by Tricia, with a special thanks to the Serba Sucky Sinema for hosting Cyborg as part of a recent reunion lineup of le’film terrible.

*Figure accurate as of 2:49 p.m. 8/14/11


Filed under Audience Participation, Awesome Action, Bad Movies, Contains Jean-Claude Van Damme, Future World

Baffled Young Hot Shot Somehow Fails to Achieve Corporate Success in Two Weeks

Michael J. Fox in Secret of My Success

Carlton Whitford is equally baffled as to the lack of a meteoric rise for Mosher, as Mosher is at least 5'5".

September 24, 1987 – New York, NY – Despite a chipper Midwestern work ethic, a business degree from Mid Plains Community College and an unrealistic measure of self value, Grant Mosher, 22, is disappointed to report that he has yet to ascend to a lucrative position at the top of the corporate ladder in the high-profile Manhattan financial company where he presently holds a job cleaning toilets from 7 p.m. to 1 a.m. Mondays through Fridays and occasional Saturdays.

“It doesn’t make any sense that I haven’t yet saved this company from a hostile takeover,” said Mosher, as he surveyed the graphs, charts and stick figure drawings strewn about an otherwise vacant office once occupied by a high-level accountant who was fired two weeks ago because of corporate cutbacks.

“I’ve been slaving away in this office for two – almost three – days and nothing,”  he said, indicating the meaningless paperwork he sneaks into the office to scribble on for a few minutes every night when the night guard tucks the newspaper under his arm and heads to the restroom down the hall. Mosher went on to explain that most of the “hard-crunched data and analysis contained therein” is based on his introduction to business strategy class and a viewing of the 1983 Eddie Murphy comedy Trading Places. “I started as a janitor way back on September 2. I think I’ve paid my dues.”

“At this rate, I should have already had sex with the boss’s wife, tricked the board of directors into believing I was a newly hired executive that no one had heard anything about and developed a murky ten-point plan to save our company from financial ruin. At the very least, I should have been making inroads with that blond accountant. You know; the one with the androgynous haircut and the boxy jackets? But the closest I’ve gotten to any tail around here is changing the tampon boxes in the ladies’ room,” Mosher paused to squint at a page of sheet music. “Sorry. That was gross. I’m just so frustrated. I wrote this song about my life and even finagled Night Ranger into doing the demo. The song has very specific lyrics that describe the overall narrative I’m aiming for here as well as my career aspirations; none of which include staying in that shithole apartment on Staten Island any longer than one, two weeks tops.”

“Mosher? Is that the little shithead who keeps filling the soap dispensers with floor wax in the men’s room on the southeast corner of the 24th floor? I don’t even think he can read,” said Floyd Hemmel, 58, assistant building maintenance manager and Mosher’s direct supervisor. “He’s always ‘sneaking’ around and dressing in a suit and tie for part of his shift, like I can’t see the ***ing thing under his T-shirt and jeans. Maybe it’s some kind of weird Midwestern sexual kink or something, I don’t know. As long as he cleans the used condoms outta the stairwells every night, I could give a rat’s ass.”

“My friend, Brantley (Foster), from summer camp, moved to New York around the same time as me, and he’s already a billionaire and he got to nail his hot aunt, who also owns the company that he was working for and now kinda owns,” Mosher shook his head. “When I made a move on my Aunt Hilda, she just got this weird look on her face, told me to get out of her apartment and not to contact her again.”

At last reporting, Mosher said playing Yello’s “Oh Yeah” on a loop during otherwise ordinary circumstances has failed to net him either oral sex from a powerful older woman or the years of hard-earned real world experience that would be necessary to actually pull any of this shit off.

This ambiguous Rental Rehab review of Michael Fox’s hit film The Secret of My Succe$s (1987)an entertaining but certifiably ’80s exercise– was written by Tricia.




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Filed under 80s Business Flick, Childhood Memories

4 Delightfully Crappy B&W Monster Films

Modern monster movies and creature features – unless we’re talking certain SyFy/Sci-Fi ventures – are for the most part, a denial of everything that is right with the genre. In our post-post-post modern/post-post-post ironic age, most monster movies are excessively over-the-top and self-aware, or boring as one of M. Night Shamalangadingdong’s later day travesties. At the risk of sounding like a stodgy old-timer, they did it better back in the day.

With that in mind, listed below are 4 black and white monster movies/creature features well worth your time, snark and the alcohol expenditure that is necessary when consuming such a pop culture bonbon. Come for the camp, stay for the cheese:

Creature From the Black Lagoon (1954) – The titular “gill man” falls in love with a prissy woman (grossly overdressed and under-useful for an expedition into the jungle) and attempts to snatch her from the arms of her equally prissy scientist fiance (of dubious sexual orientation) on repeated occasions as said fiance gives half-hearted chase. Highlight: Imagine a paper-mached Esther Williams doing somersaults, barrel rolls and Frankenstein arms in a murky pool on a Hollywood soundstage for roughly 70 minutes and you’ll get the idea.

Attack of the 50 Foot Woman (1958) – Bold feminist statement or misogyny cranked all the way to 11, this wacky tale follows the destructive path of a wealthy, booze-soaked woman who feels the radioactive touch of an otherworldly stranger in the desert and sets about tracking down the traitorous philanderer who broke her heart and left her for dead. Hell hath no fury like a mutant woman scorned. Highlight: That giant, lumpy hand–complete with manicure–as it reaches unsteadily into the windows of its victims. Did studios have a run on paper-mache supplies in the ’50s, or what?

Manster (1959) – Oh, eccentric Japanese scientists, laboring away in your hidden mountainside labs experimenting in ways to cure all of humankind’s ails by splicing their genetic codes with those of apes and bats – when will you learn? An entire lair filled with caged and sad-eyed malevolent genetic mutants and you still act surprised when your latest experiment tries to hump your leg off and then beat you to death with it. Highlight: The target of the scientist’s greatest folly is an American newspaper man whose employer routinely sends him around the world to cover interesting events while footing the bill for the finest rooms, food, booze and ass money can buy, all while covering for him with the wife/fiance/incapable-female-whatever back home. When it becomes clear the journo protagonist has gone off the deep-end and has fallen off the radar, rather than chalk it up to one less pink slip to fill out this year, his editor flies halfway around the world to come to his rescue.

Zontar: The Thing from Venus (1966) – Affable space invader propaganda stressing the dangers of having a big imagination, a sense of curiosity and a lack of respect for authority (as demonstrated by spitting in the eye of nature by having an improbably hot wife when you are clearly a “brain”). A socially retarded scientist engages in clandestine satellite signal convos with Zontar, inadvertently inviting the Venusian warlord to decimate the planet, one yokel at a time. Highlight: All the intergalactic flirting unleashes a swarm–OK, swarm is a bit generous; a handful–of tiny robotic flying creatures to do Zontar’s bidding, namely rendering the dullard townsfolk into slightly more animated zombies with a mind-controlling micro-chip implanting bite to the neck. Members of the little army fly and attack actors in captivating 180 degree arcs, almost as if attached to an off-camera stick by fishing line.

By Tricia

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Filed under "Scary" Monster Movie, "Thriller", Awesome Action, Bad Movies, So Bad It's Good, U.S.A.! U.S.A.! U.S.A!