Alamo City Comic Con – Day 3

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by Bevianna Bones

The third day of conventions is usually a shorter, more peaceful day. Artists and vendors generally start discounting their wares and the crowd is usually less than half it was the day before.  Day 3 at the ACCC was still serving up some great panels in Flash Gordon, Comic Book Men, Edward James Olmos, Villians of Arrow, and Guardians of the Galaxy. Sadly the later was overbooked and it was going to be standing room only; by this point in the con, my partner and I were pretty peopled out and decided to cut the panels from the itinerary. We spent the day visiting with some of the artists and vendors; knocking out about half of our Xmas shopping for the fam.  We ran into some of our pals and had a little fun with some cosplayers. Shenanigans!  We did get to sneak a pic of Stan Lee.  He was signing autographs and he literally looked like someone was propping him up. (How did you cast Ms Monroe in this picture, she’s been dead for years…she’s perfect for the part really, she’s lying on the floor, falling out of cupboards…) If anyone out there actually gets that reference, I’ll be most impressed.

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One of our great finds was this awesome Borg standee that we picked up for 5 bucks. What a steal!!

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And the hilarity ensued! While visiting with some of our pals, Darth Vadar enters the room with an entourage of Sith cheerleaders. People start snapping pics, and other people in Star Wars garb start joining the group. (Including some of our own Jedi pals)

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I’m laughing to myself about how some of these Star Wars fans are flipping their shit for this epic photo op, and realize I’m holding this Borg in my hand. I look over to the misses and mention how funny it would be to go put the Borg in the pic, since Wars fans generally have no sense of humor when it comes to Trek being better. The result, was this.

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Best part is, my friend that took that pic was telling me that everyone else taking the picture was asking why the Borg was there. Great stuff. And it became a bit of an ongoing theme for us the rest of the day. Photo-Borging other people’s pics.  Good times.

All in all, it was a great geeky weekend, despite my frustration from being around large swarms of people. Saturday’s attendance numbers were estimated to close to 100,000 people. (All wanting to see the Walking Dead panel haha) Oh, and the cheesey wristband did actually hold up for all three days, albeit a bit ragged by the end.

In it’s third year, it only has kept getting better, and if any of the powers that be are reading this, here’s these geeks request for next year: more retro panels and less current events. But maybe I’m just biased, after all 3G is all about the retro and fabulous.

To wrap up, I’ll leave you with some of my favorite cosplay pics we took. Imagine each photo fading in and out, with a soft Sarah McLachlan playing in the background as you scroll through.

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BB

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Alamo City Comic Con – Day 2

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by Bevianna Bones

Holy cattle!! Call the sheep hearders, Batman! Was I ever wrong! If you read yesterday’s recap you’ll know that I had much hope for an avoided cluster fuck here on day 2. It is to laugh. The experience for us actually began on our way to the convention center, as the monitors above the freeway stressed how parking at the Almaodome (told you everything here had to represent the Alamo…remember the Alamo!! How could we forget at this rate…) was by permit only for the…game? For those of you not familiar with the downtown layout and parking situation in the Alamo city; the Alamodome is across the street from the convention center which is across the street from the rivercenter and riverwalk, which is across the street from Hemisfair park, which is next to the Tower of America’s, which is next to the precious Alamo.

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Top this off, that minus the tourists, San Antone is the seventh largest city in the nation with a population of nearly 1.5 million. To accommodate all of this, our current infrastructure and city planning accommodates approximately 1,000 downtown parking spaces, give or take 500 or so.

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(Truth be told, I was looking for my useless information picture, but unfortunately couldn’t easily find it. Insert new “joke” here)

So there we are, heading down to the convention center when it occurs to me that the opening of college football season was last weekend and our homegrown UTSA Roadrunners were in fact having their first home game. Texans love their high school and college football. Way more than any “normal” people should, but that’s a topic for another day. Just know, that the combination of the regular, everyday parking situation, the football game, and the comic con all at the same time lead to extreme frustration with the parking situation.  We parked around 11:15 or so, and by 11:40 were still in line to pay for the space at the terminal. The mate stayed in line to pay, whilst I ran to the convention center (about 4 blocks away at this point) to find a sea of people flowing it’s way through the doors to purchase tickets. The Legends of Wrastlin panel started at noon. I had zero time, nor did I have the patience to wait in line again. I had already waited yesterday to get my pass. I had purchased online a month ago. Look at all these people who waited until the last minute. Who, because of their procrastination, made my parking situation worse.

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I had to get in. So I cut across the crowd, flashing my wristbands, like I owned the place and waltzed in. By the time I got into the line for the ballroom I had a few moments to spare and made the wrastlin on time. The misses had to sit it out unfortunately, but I don’t think she was nearly as excited about seeing a group of once were superstars all washed up and wrinkly.

The line up for the panel was supposed to have included Jerry Lawler, Ric Flair, JBL, Chyna, Rob Van Damne, and originally Rowdy Roddy Piper (RIP). After waiting for another 20 minutes for the panel to begin, some WWE spokesman came out to to the stage and gave us some spill about how when they brought Chyna out, we all needed to chant “Hall of Fame” for some promotional bullshit they are making. After a few more minutes, the moderator finally came out and introduced us to the panel, Chyna and RVD.

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Wait, who? Are they bringing them all out separately? Is that why there is only a loveseat on the stage? Where are the Nature Boy and The King supposed to sit? Surely they will bring them out…wait, this is it? This is the whole thing? What happened to the rest of them? Oh well, I guess I’ll just listen as RVD acts like an STD and reaffirm my thoughts that he’s a total DB.

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Then, Chyna opened up about her Playboy shoot, and named it the highlight of her career then told us she likes to spend her time mediating in Japan. She reminded of the porn star sketch in Amazon Women on the Moon.

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After those thrilling twenty plus minutes of stimulating conversation, the panel ended and the crowd dispersed so the Walking Dead panel could start. My hopes that I could just go get back in line for the Walking Dead were soon crushed. The line to get into it was wrapped twice around the convention floor. The mate and I agreed that neither of us wanted to deal with it, and decided we would catch the Breaking Bad one instead, which started at 2.

We shopped, we laughed, we perused and took pictures of the cosplayers (which will be highlighted in a separate post) and at about twenty til 2, we decided it was best to get in line for Breaking Bad. When we got to the ballroom doors, there were still people filing in for the Walking Dead. What. The. Fuck. So we ask the people that are working the con, where the line for Breaking Bad was, and they tell us that the people lined up are for Sons of Anarchy and Walking Dead. I asked them politely a couple where the Breaking Bad line is and no one seemed to know; so, again channeling a young Debbie, I proclaimed to them that the line for it would essentially start in the spot I was standing, on account that no one knew what was going on.

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Be its that Walking, and Breaking were held in the same ballroom, by the time they got everyone in there, there was about 20 minutes left of the actual panel that was supposed to have been 45. Luckily the ballrooms all have private bars, so the mate and I got some much needed “refreshments” by the time our panel started.

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Breaking Bad ft. RJ Mitte, was to feature production stories from the set as told from the perspective of Walt Jr. And, while we got a few snippets of facts about Bryan Cranston, (Somebody brushed up on their Wiki before the show…) the majority of the panel felt like a motivational seminar about being handicapable. Alcohol definitely made this one go down easier.

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In light of the “Walking Dead Debacle”, we decided to skip Stan Lee. We we’re peopled out. We ate, shopped more, visited with some of the vendors, and some of our friends that were there and called it a day.  We are both looking forward to a quieter and more laid back day 3 today. Our lineup today includes Flash Gordon (the 80s tastic one), Comic Book Men, My Little Pony, Extreme Horror, and Guardians of the Galaxy.

Oh and here’s an aerial view I got of part of the convention floor. The crowd had died down at this point.

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Until next time.

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BB

Alamo City Comic Con – Day 1

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by Bevianna Bones

Day one of Comic-Con here in the Alamo city, otherwise known as San Antonio, (native San Antonians are very proud of the Alamo, personally I think it’s pretty overrated, just like their precious Spurs…however, don’t say that to anyone on the street for fear of getting shanked) has come and gone. It’s always a fun and interesting place to be, with artists, cosplayers, vendors, celebrities, and panels.  Day one is usually the best day to scope everything out before the mass of crowds get there over the weekend.  This year, it does seem as though they have made a better use of the space and separated out the artists, vendors, and panel rooms, to where there, hopefully, won’t be as much cluster fucking with the crowds. We shall see today when we embark on day two. One other thing however that need be mentioned, is the cheese factor of this paper wristband that is intended to hold up for 3 days.

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While it is better from the perspective that people can’t hand off their lanyard style passes to others (which has often happened in the past) it seems that they could have sprung for the plastic wristbands, at least for the 3 day pass holders.

Day one offered many panels, the two highlights for me were the Back to the Future panel, and the TMNT movie (original) panel. Let’s start off with the BTTF.  This featured Claudia Wells, and James Tolkan. Jennifer and Mr. Strickland.

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Where is Michael J Fox, Crispin Glover and Lea Thompson? Not here, nor were they ever mentioned sadly. Nor was there much talk about the production of the film. There was however, much discussion from Claudia about her men’s clothing store, website where she sells bedazzled save the clock tower teeshirts, and how much she loves real Texas men. James, on the other hand, did delight the audience with a couple instances of denouncing us all as “slackers!”

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As often seen in the panels, the audience Q&A was nearly unbearable and filled with too many, “thank you for being a part of this project and making such a huge impact on our lives”. The misses and I are going to bring a flask and turn these Q&As into a drinking game today. We’re sure to be faced two panels in.
Also, I really wasn’t aware of any major impact the role of Jennifer Parker had on pop culture, and apparently the lives of so many. Really though, the blame for this train wreck of a panel goes to the mediator, who had zero questions for the two guests, and at one point begged the audience to come up with some more for them, so that he wouldn’t have to think of anything to ask. 

In great contrast to the BTTF mess, was the TMNT panel featuring Judith Hoag and Francois Chau; the best April, and Shredder.

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This is actually the second Ninja Turtle discussion I’ve been to featuring them, and it was a pleasure as always. From the way they engaged the audience, the production stories and recounts, the mediator asked purposeful questions; the Q&A didn’t include, not even one, obsessed fan droning on about the impact the actors have had on their life; and April, well April is still pretty smoking after all these years.

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The personal recounts and stories really made for a great panel, and the one moment of sadness for me, is that I didn’t have the balls to ask Mr. Chau, in his best Shredder voice, to say, “They are…babies!” Although, there was some slight mockery of Vanilla Ice to make up for it.

Stay tuned to the blog for more coverage to come as day two begins. Included in the itinerary today are The Legends of Wrestling, The Walking Dead, Breaking Bad, Sons of Anarchy, and gasp…wait for it…Stan Lee!

EXCELSIOR!!!

-BB

Howard the Duck-Down and Out in Cleve-land

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-by Bevianna Bones

It’s been a while since I have blessed you with an installment of the Howie series.  Mainly due to the fact that a coworker of mine referenced another dwarfish, obnoxious, angry little coworker as “Howard”. It’s been hard to shake the image of him in a duck suit out of my head, but alas, my love for this great cinematic masterpiece is so grand, and it’s so beloved, that nothing can deter me from its magnificent feathery duckboob filled adventures for too long. Now I bring you the next installment of our Howie series…down and out in Cleve-land.

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When we last left Howard, he and Bev had gotten in a big fight; him stating he doesn’t need her charity, and her saying so long duckie! Howard is faced with immediate problems, such as a source for food, clothing, and shelter. He must get a job. Off to the unemployment office he goes. He has donned a new look and meets his sassy-black-lady-with-big-chest-of-drawers case worker. She doesn’t actually have a name in the script, but I’m gonna call her Bertha.  Too much sauce on that chicken!

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Apparently Bertha sees a whole lot of crazy in her day to day affairs, because she isn’t even phased by Howard’s controversial look, in fact she has the perfect job for him. She even tells him he’s gonna take to it like a duck to water.

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Finally some more duck puns. It’s been five minutes since the last duck themed joke, I was starting to get worried that the writers had lost focus of the key elements of this picture.  But Bertha could have been a bit nicer to Howie…afterall, it’s not his fault he has to shoplift in the little tykes section of goodwill.

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Howard leaves with a new career, and we are transported into a magical 80sriffic hot tub paradise. Complete with lava pits. First duckboobs in the first 3 minutes, and now sexy swinging 80s hot tub palace?! How did this not get an R rating. Think of the children.

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You know there’s a porn of that if you Bing it…

Howard’s just about had it handing out towels, lotions and disinfectants. Geez, it must be mating season.  These are Howard’s jokes verbatim, not mine.  He stops for a cig break and we get a glimpse of the sweaty hairy 80s pimp.

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So much wrong here…

He demands Howard to get back to work, as there is a plugged jet in number five. Howard can’t take the humiliation anymore and shoves the sleeze into the dirty lava with a boisterous “I quit!”

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A duck needs to have his dignity! Hmph!

Broke, unemployed, with no where to go, Howard wanders the streets of Cleve-land.  He meets much discrimination and finds out that humans are not very kind to the feathery type. Afterall, it’s duck hunting season.

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I’m not gonna stop til I shoot all those fuckers out of the sky…actual dialogue.

And Howie, stay away from the San Francisco treat…

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Terrified by what he has seen on the television, and backfired cars, he runs off into an all familiar alleyway.  Yes, viewing audience. We are so smart. It’s thee alleyway.

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The one where Howard landed in Cleve-land from Duckworld.  The one where it all began. The one, gasp, where he met Bev. Time for another great Cherry Bomb ditty and Howard makes his way to the bar, to hopefully restore his relationship with the only one who looked out for him.

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Will Bev take him back? Will she give him a chance after how-ie (get it) treated her? Or will she sing more forlorn love songs?

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Don’t Walk Away…

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It’s like she’s singing to me…but how-ied (get it) she know that I was going to be here…

What happens next is a tale of space rabies and interspecial love…but that’s a tale for another day.

-BB

Uncle Sam: I Want YOU…Dead!

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by Bevianna Bones

Happy Independence Day readers!! It’s a great day to be a ‘murican. Whilst y’all are enjoying your roasted weiners, a radio-cooler full of ‘stones, and blowin’ shit up (all in the name of freedom of course) I’d like to turn your attention to the darker side of the holiday. Yes, in keeping with the spirit of tradition, (my tradition of bringing you a truly terrible b-movie holiday “horror” delight) I bring you, Uncle Sam…I Want You Dead!

When Joshie and I were discussing what we should do to celebrate our fabulous independence, it occurred to me that I didn’t have a fireworks filled patriotic b-movie staple in my repertoire to share with you good people. I debated using Birdemic, and pulling another, “whatever, I do what I want” on you, trying to justify the correlation of birds=eagles=murica. But, I felt like that would be cheating you, and ultimately myself from the true magic of the holiday. Or at least from enjoying a holiday horror flick.  The one thing that rings true for all of these holiday themed gems (not Jem, there are no holograms here) is that they are always so chaulk full of ingenious holiday-horrific deaths and the killer always, always is armed with an array of witty holiday puns. (Exp: Thankskilling-“You just got stuffed!”) Long story short, I set out on the interwebs to find answers. Was there a July 4th themed horror movie? While I’d like to take the easy way out and use Independence Day (the thought of sitting through it a second time was too difficult), I found the object of desire in Uncle Sam. From this one screen shot, I knew I had found the one.
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Uncle Sam in a King Vitamin mask licking off a bloody clever? Oh the potential! Thank you, internet, thank you. You have again opened my eyes to something magnificent…or had it?

The plot of Uncle Sam follows the story of Sam, a Master Sargent killed in Kuwait as a result of friendly fire. The movie takes place in his hometown, Twin Rivers.  His adulterous wife is shagging the local sheriff, and upon finding out about his death, she finds it best that they hole up the sarcophagus in her sisters house for some untold reason.  Jody, the brat, obviously disturbed,  finds it best to bring Uncle Sam’s ammo box full of war decorations to class , and thus suffers them through a story about how he died and then the Vietnam draft dodging cowardice teacher tells him how lovely it is, but it was a different time then and he just wouldn’t understand. Jody goes home and is upset that he can’t see his Uncle’s body, but the kindly old creeperphile General tell him that Sam’s suffered a great deal, and that he’s sure that one day, Jody will enlist and become a great war hero too.  Insert two important plot points…one…the general is a creeper and trying to get some bereavementass
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And that, secondanly, coffins are not something to play with.
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I wasn’t playing…then what were you doing Jody…?!?

Actual dialogue here people.

All this talk, talk, talk building relationships and entirely not enough killing up to this point might I add. The most frightening thing so far has been Jody’s apparent obedience to the president.
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I’ll do what the president says, because he knows best….

Again people…Actual dialogue from this thing. What’s wrong with me. I’m going to bed.
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I’m not watching tv, I’m in mourning.

Yep, that’s another one…this kid’s got More zingers than I’ve got useless quips.  But anyway, it’s 45 US minutes into this film, and by golly, we need some deaths already.  Give it another 15 minutes or so, and then we’ll actually get one. You see, it’s all building up to the Fourth of July shindig that’s about to go down…and Sam’s not having it you see.  So many unpatriotic folks in Twin Rivers. Except for good old Jed.  The wise old Negro.
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Ya see, Jed was an old sergeant that had his leg, and not to be mistaken, none other parts blown off in a land mine. (Actual dialogue again…this thing makes its own jokes) Anyway, Jed used to tell Sam his old war stories, back when they knew what were and what the why’s and what for’s were. In classic Chef wisdom, Jed convinces Jody that war is not all its cracked up to be.
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One zinger too many, and Jody is sent off to bed without supper and falls asleep reading a very murican letter from uncle Sam about how all those unumerican peeps should have their butts kickedfor bein’ unumurican and someshit.
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Flash to the youth. The youth are always causing trouble in movies, and leave it to them to be very unumerican indeed. What with their graffitin and flag burnin…Sam just can’t take this shit anymore. His corpse rises from the sarcophagus and steals back his medals from the creepy kid, pins them on his zombichest and seeks out to get amurican on all these unumerican bastards!! Liberty!!!!!

But wait…before we get to any actual killing, still nearly an hour in, let’s get to what’s really
important. The obligatory boobies scene

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But it’s really ingenious in this one how it sneaks up on you…they tie it into the first killing. And not in that kill the slut kind of way that most horror flicks do…this one sets it up nicely. The first victim…the creeper dressed like Uncle Sam, is peeping in a window. And well, peepin Tom’s are just unumerican and Sam sets forth to kill the little pervy with some garden sheers. Finally, tits and death in the same 5 minutes, this movie is alright afterall, but more importantly, this is where Sam gets THEE Uncle Sam costume. He even tailors it to fit with the bloody garden sheers.

Time for more killing. Sam just got started and now he’s on a roll. Off to the cemetery to take care of the rest of those flag burnin youth. He takes out the leader of the pack via ocular spray paint; red, white, and blue, of course and then buries him alive on account of a
broken leg. Eagles scracaw!! Let freedom ring!!!
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Not assaitiated yet, the next Nazi youth is strung up to hang to death on flag pole. I will give this movie this, as slow as it was to get going, it sure took off in excitement in the last half.  Well, we’ve made it to the 4th of July celebration. The townsfolk are all gathered together to celebrate. But wait, there’s something missing. The hatchet. Of course. But where is it? In the draft dodgin’
teachers’ head of course!
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For no apparent reason, or plot arc, we are now introduced to a blind burnside kid in a wheelchair, who’ s family shows up to the festivities. No one can believe it, for this is the dangers of playing with fireworks people.

There are lessons to be learned here. In addition to being maimed, apparently, his freak accident left him with a 6th sense, to where he can speak with resurrected killing machine zombie veterans, and he knows exactly what plan Sam has hatched and how to thwart it, and how Sam will trust him; all this develops later on in the movie…via a single dialogue interchange at a random time, much like most of the character development occurs in this film. I just feel it important to point this out to you now, because its likely I will miss this in the future, as I’ve watched it three times now for the purposes of writing this and just now reflected on this revelation. A’murica!
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Now, with that introspection aside, we move on to our next victim. The blonde jock. Making a mockery of national anthem. He even moons the crowd. Uncle Sam’s gonna have his way with him, but not just yet. There are other killings that hold a higher priority.  Like how about the last guest to the bbq, the corrupt senator, starts to try and schoomze the crowd. Sam is ever so upset. He best just kill them all.
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Btw, this movie, and it’s killings, are brought to you by Country Time. A’Murica’s lemonade

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The lost episode of To Catch A Predator…

A potato sack race later and Blondie Jock is finally about to get hacked.  It was Uncle Sam, in the forest, with the clever.

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Insert scene of wifey an beau; I’d really like to tell you there’s a plot here, but there’s not. Sister finds Ralph dead…And in case you missed it, there’s a half of second clip of Sam snatching a pellet gun from a shooting gallery. Guess what?!? Honest Abe was shot in the head…how original. That’s probably why no one but the crooked politician seems to give a damn. He see’s this as a golden opportunity to hit it with the voters and show off his new pair of sunglasses. How fucking a’murican can we get? Guess what guy’s…The politician is about to get Sam’d next…And he’s gonna get it in the way I was dreaming about pun filled glory when I first found this piece on Google. That’s right, FIREWORKS.
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But before that, let’s have another vaguely crappy scene to elude to some sort of predecessor that was to set the film up that never actually occurred. We get that Sam was bad to his wife and sis…But how bad? Beating bad? Raping bad? We don’t ever really know except it seems that no one really liked the guy, including family, and this is what Wikipedia had to say about it. Although none of this was actually ever discussed in the movie.

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But at least wiki makes some sense for us.

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And he did bad things, only the love for denim can replace.

Back to the killing!! And epically. Do you ever feel, like a plastic bag drifting through the wind, waiting to start again?? So do the ashes of the corrupt congressman, and this is finally the event that makes the townsfolk wonder what’s going on. And we get a twofer death, as Sam knocks out the sheriff at the same time. Impaled on Old Glory? How American is that?

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The blind kid, the creepy kid, and the wise old negro come up with a plan to stop Sam once and for all…

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After a whole lot of introspection, and a couple more non plot related deaths, Chef..err, Jed…decides that since Uncle Sam can’t be killed with bullets, it’s best to use Jody as a distraction to gain his trust, whilst Chef wrangles the town cannon (every town should have one) to the back of his pickup and hauls it off to take out Uncle Sam once and for all. ‘Murica!!

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My very favorite part of this film is the cannon balls Twin Rivers is packing. 20% Mortar, 90% Michael Bay, these babies pack an explosive whallop and leave Sam buring in the rubble after only two, countem two Michael Bay cannon balls…

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Jody serving Judgement Day realness…

And then the secondly epic cannon ball mortary extravaganza.

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The killer always comes back people…bad horror genre 101…

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So essentially, the climax of the movie consists of the blind kid, the creepy kid, and the wise old negro blowin shit up on the fourth of July. And here it is that the movie comes truly full circle. A’Murcia.

America fuck yeah-team america:

But seriously, about the ending of the movie tho, super weak. And super unamurican. With what I was waiting for the entire film for an awesome one-liner of “I want you!” We sadly didn’t get. In fact, we didn’t get any at all. In fact, it’s almost safe to say that I made this sound entirely more enjoyable than it actually was. Watch at your own risk. But if you don’t celebrate the fourth with this terrible atrocity, celebrate with a true spirit of independence in your heart, because its often forgot amongst many, but it’s truly a great thing to be an American. And if you don’t believe it, someone at your BBQ is likely to go all Uncle Sam on your ass…

-BB

Howard the Duck – First Night in Cleve-Land

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-by Bevianna Bones

By now, all of you out there have probably figured out that I truly love this movie. Each of my posts have recaped a total of about 15 minutes of the glorious film. In the first installment of The Howie Series, we took a look at Duckworld, and of course, Duckboobs.  In the second installment, we took a look at Cherry Bomb, Bev’s badass 80’s rock band; and when we left off, Howard had just unleashed a wicked quackfu attack on Bev’s would be rapist alley assailants.  Bev, grateful for Howie’s help, offers him a place to stay the night, and thus we begin the third installment of the Howie Series…what I am calling First Night in Cleve-Land.

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Before we talk about the obvious budding relationship between Bev and Howard, let me first just point out that while Bev’s apartment is supposed to be a slum dive, I always thought it was a super badass loft.  Even if her loser crummy band manager did find it for her.  What a scum…it’s important for future events of the movie to understand that we should hate Ginger, the band manager. We will call this foreshadowing. Can anyone say Space Rabies?? I’m getting ahead of myself, more on that to come. So much neon lightning must have cost a fortune. The neon afterall matches Bev’s clothes. Great job art department, if only that level of detail had gone into the duckhead and it’s dead eyes.

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Whoops…wrong movie…anyways…

Bev takes Howie up to her badass pad and the two of them get to know each other as Howard tries to understand this strange new world, and Bev makes insulting comments Howard such as she hopes he doesn’t poop the place and she can get him a bowl of milk. Howard is not amused with this, but Bev eventually figures out that while he’s a duck in appearance, he’s just like everyone else. Rainbows and unicorns and hugs.

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Like looking into a mirror of dead eyes…

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One of the several times we have a laugh over the commercialization of ducks on our world. 

Howard and Bev share a beer together, and Howard obviously can’t handle his hooch, as he immediately passes out. Bev takes advantage of the situation and not only molestes Howard for the first time, yes there are more times…we will talk about Ducksex in a future post, she takes the opportunity to go through his wallet. Guess no one explained to him the dangers of traveling abroad.  I wonder if there is a Duck Liam Neeson?

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So soft and fluffy…

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Yay more duckpuns…

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Wait what’s that…is that what I think it is? Yes it is. But the real question is why is it not in a wrapper? Is this a used duckcondom Howard is carrying in his wallet? Gross.

Bev resolves to help Howard find out why he is here and help him get back, so the next morning she takes a cab to the science museum and hauls Howard over there in a hefty bag.  Liam where are you?!

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Airholes or stab wounds…you be the judge.

Howard states that he’ll need therapy the rest of his life; not only him I’m thinking but likely all the people Bev runs course with during her hefty excursion. Even more disturbing no one asks questions. She must be in a really rough part of Ohio.

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Enter a very young Tim Robbins as the budding scientist Philsy and soon to be best pal to Howard, but we don’t know that yet. He further insults Howard by asking him a series of absurd questions and Howard gets fett up and is ready to leave.  Philsy explains to him a theory of duck evolution that every schoolduck knows and determines that this avenue is a waste of time.

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See…more duckpuns…just incase you haven’t figured out that this is a duckthemed movie yet

Pissed off about the circumstances he’s been faced with, he decides that he doesn’t need anyone’s help. Not Philsy’s, and certainly not Bev’s. Their first quarrel, and Bev says so long duckie and storms off in huff.

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Humph!

What will happen to Howard now that he has been left by his only friend? Guess we’ll just have to wait and see until our next installment…

-BB