Christmas Movie Marathon #27,26 & 25

Yeah, so I’m combining some of my Christmas Movie Marathon posts…suck it.

#27  Love Actually

A romantic comedy with an “All Star” cast, Love Actually was ACTUALLY (derp!) a pretty decent movie.  It stars Pirates of the Carribean’s Davy Jones and Elizabeth Swan, as well as Colin Firth, Qui Gon Jinn, Nanny McPhee, Tim from the British version of The Office, (or Bilbo Baggins from the new Hobbit movie, depending on your preference) Rick Grimes from The Walking Dead, Severus Snape, Billy Bob Thornton (aka BBT), Mr. Bean, and everyone’s favorite befuddled Englishman, Hugh Grant.  If THAT wasn’t enough to wet your appetite, it also features cameos from Elisha Cuthbert, Shannon Elizabeth, and Mrs. Betty Draper herself, January Jones!

Having never sat through this movie, I was pleasantly surprised to see that it had a little more depth and darkness to it than your garden variety romantic comedy shitfest.  In a nutshell, and SPOILER ALERT:


I wish I could say that that was the first time I used that joke…

#26  The Year Without a Santa Clause

As I watched this one, I took notes on my computer in an attempt to capture my thoughts as they entered my brain.  Instead of adding any additional commentary or remarks, I figured I would just leave my notes unedited so you could see how simple and elementary my thought process truly is:

The Year without a santa clause:

The Movie without a description.

Mrs. Claus sings about how she has fantasized about being Santa before.  One can only assume that she also fantasized two Santas having gay, geriatric sex.  I invite you to do the same.

Santa: “What are you up to, ma?”

Two elves named “Jingle” and “Jangle.” Jangle sounds like he is voiced by Ray Romano, and his nose is played by a penis.

Heat Maizer and Snow Maizer are both pussies who live in the clouds.

Santa dresses like Mr. Magoo when he’s not working.

What gender would you think “Vixen” is? THAT’S RIGHT! FEMALE!

Ignatius Thistlewhite is the name of the little white kid.

Iggy’s (Ignatius’) mom: “Why don’t you bring your friend Mr. Claus inside, I’ll ‘give him something’ for that cold of his.”  Perhaps the mother is referring to oral sex?

“I believe in Santa Clause” is an oddly written song.

#25  Claymation Christmas

This CBS special is “hosted” by a Velociraptor who talks like Thurston Howell III, so, needles to say, it scores some coolness points right off the bat.  Oh, and the CALIFORNIA RASINS ARE IN IT!!!!

“Hey man, you’re a cab.”

Ooooooh chile, dems sum crazy raisins!

Hey on your way back from that nostalgic journey through your childhood, pick me up some “Bugle Boy” jeans, will ya?  K thanx.

Till we meet again,


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Christmas Movie Countdown #28: Frosty the Snowman

“There must’ve been some magic…or witchcraft…in that old silk hat they found.”

For those of you unaware of the intricate plot of this christmas classic:

Several school children are having a Christmas party in their classroom, when a less than stellar magician named “Professor Hinkle,” puts on a terrible magic show, complete with broken eggs, and a rabbit.  Long story short: the rabbit gets Hinkle’s magic hat stuck on his teeny rabbit head, hops it outside onto the playground, and puts it on a snowman that the children built.  Hocus pocus, Frosty comes alive.  Hinkle realizes that the hat is indeed magical, he wants it all to himself. Hinkle spends the remainder of the show trying to bamboozle one of the children (Karen) and Frosty to get the hat back.

Once the temperature outside begins to increase, and Frosty becomes self-aware, he realizes he must get to a cold climate or else he risks a painful, agonizing, death.  This leads Karen, Frosty, and “Hocus Pocus” (the rabbit) on a journey to the North Pole.

The story itself is narrated/sung by Jimmy Durante, an older gentleman with a strong New York accent.  Mr. Durante also sings the story’s theme.  One second he will sing you into the christmas spirit with a delightful 1950’s-esque croon.  While the next minute, he sounds like if you were to disrespect him in any way, that he would surely have one of his goons squeeze your testicles until one or both of them pop.

Uh-Oh!! Little known fact alert!  Other suggested names for Frosty included Harold, Christopher Columbus, and Oatmeal.  However, in hindsight, Oatmeal may have been a more appropriate name for the snowman, because Frosty… is an imbecile. Every time the massive, frozen buffoon comes to life, his first words are always “Happy Birthday.”  This is never addressed or corrected by any of the other characters.  Although I suppose he could be saying “Happy Birthday” to Jesus, but the movie seems to lack any other major religious overtones, other than the fact that Frosty possesses the power of reincarnation.

Anywho, back to the plizzot:  On the way to the North Pole, and in an effort to keep Karen warm in the bitter cold, Frosty finds a greenhouse to shelter the child in.  This shelter will undoubtedly prevent Karen from contracting hypothermia.  Unfortunately, our mustachioed villain, Professor Hinkle, shuts the door and traps Frosty, leaving him with a one way ticket to Melt-town.  Upon Frosty’s violent melting in the greenhouse of “tropical poinsettia plants,” Santa Claus(oh yeah, Santa pokes his jolly ass in there too) reveals that our protagonist was made of “Christmas snow,” which never disappears completely.  See? So he will be back NEXT christmas!  Whatever, Santa.

During Frosty’s heart-wrenching death sequence, our dear narrator/singer, (insert name) leads us through a very somber, very poignant scene, showing us the more memorable moments of Frosty’s 15 minute life.  I half expected the following:


R.I.P Frostazeus "Frosty" Snowman 1969-1969

Speaking of Life and Death, when Frosty first comes to life, he lists the reasons why he is alive.

Frosty’s Rules of Existence:

1. Be able to make words/speech

2. Be able to move

3. Be able to juggle

4. Be able to sweep

5. Be able to count to 10 (Actually, Frosty kinda shits the bed on this rule.  He is only truly able to count to 5 before he begins making horrendous errors.)

6.  Be Ticklish


Till we meet again,


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College Football Week 1: The Fall of Oxford


While sometimes the Arkansas Razorback fanbase can be an odd bunch, one that could be accused of being loud, irrational, impatient, unrealistic, unreasonable, even bloodthirsty…

…they are not always incorrect.

Houston Nutt: ("unintelligible grunt")

In a display of what can only be described as “Supreme Cosmic Justice,” Houston Nutt’s Ol’ Miss Rebels fell to the Jacksonville State Fighting Gamecocks on Saturday. By the way, dibbs on “Supreme Cosmic Justice” as the name of my metal band.  Don’t worry… We’ll do old stuff AND new stuff.  But I digress…

If your reaction when I told you the name of the team was “who?” you are correct. Jacksonville State University is a member of the Ohio Valley conference in Division I FCS (Football Championship Subdivision) in football, formerly I-AA, of the NCAA.  In other words, a team in the Southeastern Conference, widely regarded as the toughest, most prestigious, and mightiest football conference, should have mopped the floor with these Gamecocks.  However, the football gods saw it fit to teach dear Houston the error of his ways.  But I feel like that this turn of events was not only brought upon by his transgressions as the head football coach at Arkansas, no ma’am.  Nutt stuck his neck out to the NCAA in defense of a player with a, let’s say, less than stellar behavioral background, named Jeremiah Masoli.

Masoli was kicked off the Pac 10’s Oregon Ducks for numerous bouts with the law, such as traffic citations, drug possession, and theft.  Even after the NCAA denied his initial transfer request to Ol’ Miss, Nutt pleaded the case of the once heisman trophy hopeful.  His speech was no doubt “emotionally charged,” whilst speaking of various intangibles such as “heart,” “desire” and the “will to win.”

(brief aside)

Isn’t it peculiar that these are the same adjectives used to describe former Florida Quarterback Tim Tebow?  Only in this case, they are being used to cover up off the field inadequacies, as opposed to athletic ability.  (Translation: Tim Tebow is an overrated bitch.)

(end of aside)

Long story short, the NCAA overturned their decision, Masoli was allowed to play, and they still lost to a grossly inferior opponent.

Supreme Cosmic Justice.

Cue the fight song!

WARNING: The blog is gonna be a tad football heavy for the next little bit (cough…February…cough) so if you enjoy that particular sport, strap in/on! Hell, you might even get a cheap laugh or two out of it.

Till we meet again,


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Armageddon It

Hi! How are YOU?!

I have unfortunately been severely falling down on my responsibilities to the internet Gods.  But the time has come for them to be appeased.

Hey speaking of the Gods, I am becoming more and more confident that the world will end in December of 2012.  Up until very very recently, I was convinced that the Mayan calendar was simply one that HAD to end at some point, and the date just happened to coincide with one that is within all of our lifetimes.  I had never placed much stock in December 21, 2012 being a possible endpoint of mankind.  I just didn’t.

However, over the recent months, certain events in science, entertainment, and general hilarity have caused me to rethink my stance.

So now…as the Gods bicker over an intense game of “Chutes and Ladders,” one that will decide the fate of our world, it is I who will sift through the rubble…and bring to you…


Sign number 1:  The Icelandic Volcano

"One does not simply walk into Iceland."

Unless you have no television, internet, or cell phone, you are undoubtedly aware of the massive eruption of the volcano Kyejalvickekjlajkjaskjdfkjajelak in Iceland, and the massive inconvenience it created for travelers going to and from Europe.  What you are probably not aware of, is that my fiance and I are scheduled to travel to London in early June for our honeymoon.  Why this volcano decided to single-handedly halt all air travel over the one region on the planet where I hope to go (via AIRPLANE) in the coming months is anybody’s guess.

Sign Number 2:  The Midwest Fireball

This one may have actually slipped by you.  Apparently a giant fireball skated its celestial ass across the midwest skies a couple of weeks ago, causing…uh…nothing I guess.  But look, even if it probably was a civil war era comet, I still think the gods were trying to tell us something.

Sign Number 3:  The KFC Double Down

Webster’s Dictionary defines the word sandwich as “ two or more slices of bread or a split roll having a filling in between.”

The Double Down sandwich contains no bread, which, by definition, negates it from being considered a sandwich.

"Now, THIS is a chicken sandwich." Nay, pilgrim. That is a fistful of colon cancer, with two slices of morbid obesity, and a spicy sauce made of labored breathing.

Oh, Colonel…I had misjudged you!  Here you have been the last couple months trying to push your “Kentucky Grilled Chicken” on consumers, and I was SURE that you had gone soft… that you had lost the drive that got you to into the fried chicken racket in the first place.  Boy howdy, was I mistaken.

For those of you unaware of this deep fried monstrosity, the Double Down contains two boneless original recipe chicken breasts with two pieces of bacon, two slices of cheese  and a sauce of unknown origin placed between them.  Too much? Perhaps your taste buds would prefer the grilled version…

A grilled version of the sandwich? Seriously? That will undoubtedly be for the delusional 300+ pound man or woman who want to fully gorge themselves without all of that pesky “bread.”  Actually, KFC should just jump to calling their other bread on the menu “meat interruption” or “that spongy, non-meat shit.”  Be on the lookout for the new original recipe milkshakes.  Two original recipe chicken pieces, blended with a cool glass of whole milk with a rich, cool gravy glaze.  Oh, my taste buds! How they sing!

My biggest gripe however, is the marketing campaign.  In their most frequently running advertisement, they have a black gentleman saying the phrases “Gimmie more chicken,” “Hellooooo, Chicken,” and (very lustfully) “…and two pieces of chicken.”  The only times they mention the GD chicken, they have the black guy say it.    Don’t believe me?  Point your lookin’ balls below…

Read into it what you will, but one must only glance at Colonel Sanders to know that he probably had slaves.

Till We Meet Again,


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Ice-pocalypse 2010

Ice to see you.

So…pretty quiet around Fayetteville.  Oh, and by “quiet,” I mean ridiculous, unfiltered, panic…

Because by sundown tonight, the entire state of Arkansas will be a victim of an otherworldly flaunting of Mother Nature’s supreme, unchallenged power…commonly referred to as an “Ice Storm.”  God, I can see her as she gazes down her pointy, witch-like nose with disdain so pure that it could be used in hospitals to cure sick patients.  I’m sure that “Mother Nature disdain” would be an amazing breakthrough in the field of medicine.  However, her hatred would never allow that…she harbors too much contempt for human lives.

But what has brought about such anger?  After hours of intense research, I have discovered that the reason we bear the might of Mother Nature is due to the rise of certain “popular” musicians.  I’ve narrowed the list down to 15 singers/groups.  The blame rests on the shoulders of Chris Daughtry, Jason Mraz, John Mayer, Taylor Swift, Carrie Underwood, Owl City, Miley Cyrus, Rihanna, Katy Perry, Adam Lambert, Kris Allen, Michael Buble, the Black Eyed Peas, Britney Spears, and the guardians of the gates of Hell itself…Nickelback.

That’s right.  Nickelback is the reason we are about to be hit by a winter storm.

I made the mistake of going to Walmart yesterday afternoon after I got off work.  Good heavens.  Like many Americans, I have had many trips to the world’s largest retailer, and not all of them were the most pleasant experiences.  But in my 23 years on the planet, I have never been in a place with so much obvious confusion, fear, and uncertainty.  I cannot throw stones, however, because I was there with all of them, attempting to protect myself and my fiance against a cold, faceless menace.

Where is all the delicious bread?

While Mother Nature is often portrayed in various forms, such as a sweet old woman tending to a garden or harvesting grain for her village, she continues to be unrecognized as the merciless figure that the winter season truly merits.  I for one believe there should be a better symbol for the nasty side of the season.  And don’t give me the “Old Man Winter” garbage.  He is only pissed because of how cold his coffee is getting.  Plus, he is probably upset that the episode of “Matlock” he just started watching was an episode he has already seen.

No. There should be a symbol more in line with the harsh connotations of the bitter cold of winter and it’s cruel storms.  Something a little more ruthless…

That symbol…Dr. Victor Fries (pronounced “Freeze”).  Otherwise known as Mr. Freeze!
(portrayed by Governor Arnold Schwartenegger)

Freeze is a scientist who must wear a cryogenic suit in order to survive, and bases his crimes around a “cold” or “ice” theme, complete with a “cold gun” that freezes its targets solid. In the most common variation of his origin story, he is a former cryogenics expert who suffered an industrial accident while attempting to treat his terminally ill wife, Nora. (Source: Wikipedia)

Get this…when he is translated to the big screen, ALL of his lines are cold/ice puns!
Come ON! You can’t argue with that!

Just look at some of the lines he was given in the 1997 abortion, “Batman & Robin:”

Mr. Freeze: You’re not sending ME to the COOLER!

Cop #1: Please show some mercy!
Mr. Freeze: Mercy? I’m afraid my condition has left me cold to your pleas of mercy.

Mr. Freeze: Tonight, hell freezes over!

Mr. Freeze: Hello, Sorry about the door, Is the party over?

Henchman: Sir! Sir! You’ve gotta see this!
[Freeze freezes him]
Mr. Freeze: I hate it when they talk during the movie.

Mr. Freeze: Ice to see you!

Poison Ivy: He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me…
Mr. Freeze: NOT! Surprise, I am your new cell mate. And I’m here to make your life a living hell. Prepare for a bitter harvest. Winter has come at last.

Mr. Freeze: I will blanket the city in endless winter. First Gotham, and then the world.
Poison Ivy: Just what I had in mind. Everything dead on earth, except us. A chance for Mother Nature to start again. Behold, the dawn of a new age. My mutant plants have the strength of the deadliest animals. Once you have frozen mankind, these babies will overrun the globe, and we shall rule them, for we will be the only two people left in the world.
Mr. Freeze: Adam and Evil!

Mr. Freeze: What killed the dinosaurs? The Ice Age!

Mr. Freeze: In this universe, there’s only one absolute… everything freezes!

Mr. Freeze: Cool party!

Mr. Freeze: I’ll kill you next time!

Mr. Freeze: [referring to Batman and Robin] Their bones will turn to ice! Their blood will freeze in my hands!

Mr. Freeze: Can you be cold, Batman? You have eleven minutes to thaw a bird. What will you do? Chase the villain or save the boy? Your emotions make you weak. That’s why this day is mine!

Mr. Freeze: If revenge is a dish best served cold, then put on your Sunday finest. It’s time to feast!

Mr. Freeze: Watch the numbers, Batman, for they are the harbingers of your doom. Can you feel it coming? The icy cold of space! Ahh! At 30,000 feet, your heart will *freeze* and be no more!

Mr. Freeze: Allow me to break the ice. My name is Freeze. Learn it well. For it’s the chilling sound of your doom.

Mr. Freeze: Let’s kick some ice!

Mr. Freeze: The Ice Man cometh!

[Batman is trying to melt the ice, when Freeze appears in the magnifying glass of the telescope]
Mr. Freeze: Tonight’s forecast… a freeze is coming!

Ms. B. Haven: Freezy, I’m feeling hot.
Mr. Freeze: I find that unlikely.
Ms. B. Haven: Okay, so my hair is brittle and my skin is dry. I’d wear the blizzards just to have you. You’re the most perfect man I’ve ever known. What do you say we heat things up?
Mr. Freeze: My passion thaws for my pride alone.
Ms. B. Haven: Ooh. Talk about your cold shoulder.

Mr. Freeze: [freezes Robin] Stay cool, Birdboy.

But seriously, stay warm.

Till we meet again,


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Well…it’s Tuesday.

Tuesday is usually such a terrible day.  Monday is barely over, and you still have 3 whole days left of your godforsaken workweek.  In my opinion, Tuesday ranks second only to Thursday as the suckiest day of the week.  Thursday takes the cake due to its proximity to Friday.  Because just as a bodyguard, one must get through Thursday to get to Friday.  Nothing good ever happens on a Thursday…it is a useless day.

But I digress.  While most Tuesdays delve deep into “sucktitude,” this Tuesday is joyous.  For today is the 29th birthday of my dear brother, Chris.

Christopher Ryan Leonard was born on January 26th, 1981 in a little hospital in Pine Bluff, Arkansas.  It is actually the same hospital that I was born in, making my brother and I the two greatest men to have ever been birthed in Pine Bluff.  Don’t believe me?  Go visit sometime.  Right in front of City Hall, there is a statue of my brother and I…essentially a sculpture of myself kneeling whilst my gaze is held by something on the distant horizon.  Behind me, my brother stands tall, triumphant.  His gaze is also held by something on the horizon.  The symbolism of the statue is obvious.  Although the town of Pine Bluff bore us, our destinies shall lead us to greater, perhaps undiscovered worlds, both physically and metaphorically.

The inscription on the side conveys a similar, powerful message:

“Pine Bluff…Birthplace of Kings”

I haven’t said this enough on here, but I absolutely adore my family.  I drew an unbeatable hand.  My father is the greatest, most genuine, one of a kind, absolutely hilarious man this planet has ever known.  There has never been a better father.

If you speak to any of my friends, they will tell you how nice of a mother I have.  To this, my usual response would be “Yeah, but you don’t see her when she is pissed off,” but in actuality, they are right.  My mother’s heart is so full of compassion and kindness, that it almost pours out of her when she speaks.  I can say, without hesitation, that she is the kindest woman I have ever met, and there has never been a better mother.

Then, there is my brother.

When I was very little, I couldn’t say the name “Christopher” because my tiny lips and tongue prevented me from doing so.  So, I instead attempted to say the word “brother,” which of course came out sounding like “Bubby.”  This is the name I will always associate with my brother.  Calling him “Chris” sounds so unnatural to me that I can never see myself doing so.

My brother is five years my senior, and if not for him, I would have had a very different childhood.  For the record, I would not change a single second of my childhood.  I am grateful that I had him to help me get a grip on the different things that happened to me growing up.  It was nice to be able to bounce smart/dumb ideas off of him.  Don’t worry, he returns the volley right back to me.  Any bump in the road that either of us encountered only seemed to strengthen our brotherly bond, and brought us closer together.

The “statue in Pine Bluff” thing has been a running joke between my brother and I for the better part of a decade and is one of many inside jokes that we share.  Believe me, that isn’t the only one.  But some have more “F” words in them…

The fact is that my brother is a great person whom I have looked up to for my entire life.  He has known me as long as anyone on this earth has, and still gives me unconditional love and support.  He is also not afraid to tell it to me “like it is” or give me a nice thump in the scrotum if I get too “uppity,” but I have always felt like he is proud of me.  He is as kind as he is successful, and as funny as he is awesome, and when June 5 rolls around, I will be honored to have him at my side as I marry the girl of my dreams.  But today, he is my brother …and there has never been, nor will their ever be, a better one.

I love my brother, and today is his birthday.

Happy Birthday, dude.

Till we meet again,


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“Should old aquaintance be forgot…GET DOWN!!!”


You have successfully made it to the new home of the Scumblog. This will be where all future posts will come from, so plan accordingly.  Props to my dear fiance, Jessi, for designing the tremendously unflattering header you see above these lines of “nonsense speak.” But seriously, I think it conveys the correct message.  Whilst we are on the subject of Jessi, skate on over to her blog at You will not regret it.

Now… if yee be prepared both mentally and physically, pour yourself a glass of your favorite beverage, get out your bookmark, file this under “uninteresting,” strap in, and join me as we ride our blazing chariot into the next decade…and beyond! Sku!

Hopefully, I’m the last person to wish you a Happy New Year.  I trust anyone who reads this helped usher in the year 2010 by administering some much needed liver abuse with excessive alcohol consumption…and god bless you for that.  You, good sir (or ma’am), are a patriot.

While we are on the subject of the new year, I would like to say that the current year is pronounced “twenty ten,” as opposed to “two-thousand and ten.”  I feel like this should not even be up for discussion.  I mean, when was the last time you heard someone say “Last Action Hero, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, was the greatest movie of the year nineteen hundred and ninety three?”

Sure, the statement is true, but saying it like that sounds like it’s coming from one of Julius Caesar’s announcers right before 6 men murdered each other at the Coliseum.


(crowd begins to chant “Blood, Blood, Blood!”)

In a bit of exiting, non-Gladiator news since the new year, Jessi and I are currently in the market for a new computer, and I believe we are making the switch to a Macintosh machine.  I can almost feel your excitement about reading that because, honestly, who doesn’t like to read about normal, everyday purchases from people who aren’t them?!?! Who, I ask you? WHO?!

All it means to you is that shortly, there will be a considerable upgrade to the amount of user generated content on this blog.  The machine that I currently operate on is, in a word, garbage.  There are two items from my past in particular which will see light of day for the first time in several years upon arrival of the new computer.  I’m just saying…It’s gonna eat your lunch.

HINT: One video is a “hunting” show and the other is a cop drama.  Be on the lookout.

After two unsuccessful trips to see Avatar in IMAX 3D, I am unsure if I will ever actually see it in a movie theater.  My expectations remain low, so if I ever do see it, whatever James Cameron.  It certainly seems as if there are several other schmos that have paid for that G5 you fly around in.

It really is almost nauseating how successful of a movie director he is, but that is probably my overwhelming jealousy talking.  Whatever my feelings are to Mr. Cameron, he did bring the world Terminator 2: Judgment Day and True Lies.  For that, I am forever in his debt.

I have just noticed the amount of Arnold Schwarzenegger references I have written in the brief history of this blog.  Well, what kind of guide would I be if I did not provide you with real, tangible proof of the pure cinematic excellence of Arnold Schwarzenegger?  Ask and you shall receive, dear pilgrim…

Note the Sally Jessie Raphael reference, and Arnold’s contempt for animals.

As I watch that, I can actually feel new hairs sprouting on my chest.  If any of you are fans of the HBO series “Big Love,” you probably recognized Bill “Hendrickson” Paxton getting his face smashed by Arnold right as Bill is describing Arnold’s wife as having an “ass like a ten year old boy.”  Oh my. How enticing!  I have known my share of  “douche douchertons” over time, but no matter how sexist, demeaning, or objectifying they are of women, I cannot imagine a scenario in which “ass like a ten year old boy” would enter the vernacular.

For those of you who know me other than the words I write here, you are probably aware of my affinity for 80’s era heavy metal.  So allow me to give you your final, embarrassingly late, Christmas present.  It’s a little song called “I’ll be home for Christmas.”  Twisted Sister, take it away…

Till We Meet Again,


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