Monday, March 16, 2015

HOLY FUCKING SHIT! The Jinx: The Life and Deaths of Robert Durst

I know!!!


Look, I don't know what the hell you're doing right now, but stop doing it. Just stop. Call your boss. Cancel your appointment at #Great #Clips. Just put your stupid life on hold for a few stinking hours and get to your couch so you can watch HBO's documentary series The Jinx: The Life and Deaths of Robert Durst. It's only six episodes and each ep is only like 45 minnies. You'll be done in no time. I watched every ep last night and it was RIVETING. So go go go! Stop friggin' reading this. Riveting is an understatement. It's about a weird, eccentric rich dude who may have murdered a few peeps in the last 30 years. If you don't have HBO, order it. JUST FUCKING ORDER IT. Or find someone who has an HBO Go password. I have one. I will lend you my goddamn password. Jesus Christ what is taking you so long? It was the most incredible documentary series I've ever seen. Maybe even the most incredible TV/Movie/watching something something I've ever seen. With the most bonkers ending ever. And I am not exaggerating. Why the fuck are you still reading? I hate you so much.

If you are still reading, let it be known that you are now entering SPOILER CITY. So go now. Unless you watched. Then keep reading. But Jesus Fucking Christ are you kidding me?!?!?!



Okay, now that it's just us, just the people who actually watched, we can speak openly about the show.




I can safely say that the last scene of that doc was one of, if not the most shocking, incredible, most unbelievable things I've ever seen on television. Right up there with:

- Ron Artest running into the crowd and punching people
- The World Trade Center crumbling
- The OJ chase
- What am I missing here, folks?
- Spike Albrecht's first half explosion vs. Louisville
- The end of The Thin Blue Line
- Jim Everett attacking Jim Rome
- The first time I touched a butt

As Robert mumbled to himself in the bathroom, I just sat there with my mouth WIDE FUCKING OPEN LIKE BIG MOUTH BILLY BASS. I just covered my mouth and breathed hot, disgusting dead air into my hands. My wife had accidentally seen a New York Times alert on her phone a few hours earlier and it didn't even matter. It was still incredible. Bob talking to himself and the mumbling and how flizzle-flazzed he was made it all so much more real. I mean, it was obviously real. Of course it was real. What the fuck am I even talking about?! Incredible filmmaking to only have the audio for that last scene. It worked out even better that way. Kind of like the last episode of The Office when Tim rips off his mic and you can't hear what he's saying to Dawn. But the opposite. What incredible storytelling! Holy fucking shit! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!! If you haven't seen The Office yet then seriously what is wrong with you?!?!?!? And I'm obvs not talking about the shit American one!!!

So much of that Durst doc was amazing. The style of it. Making the reenactments not look shitty. How candid Robert Durst was. How creepy he was. How witty he was. Jarecki's goddamn goatee/sideburns combo!!!


Other shit that's worth talking about:

- Bob's eyes (omg, just calling him Bob is so weird) were so dark, and so eerie, and that scene in like episode three when he's walking down the hall on the way to court and is just staring down at the camera. Holy shit.

- I loved loved loved the investigator from Texas. With the goatee. That guy was so sweet. And I felt so sad for him that he couldn't close that case. It is friggin' fascinating that people live in Texas.

- Oh yeah, sure, Bob should've been acquitted in Texas anyway. It's not like he SAWED A DUDE'S LIMBS OFF AND THREW THEM IN THE OASHE.

- Holy shit, did you see that Bob hired that same Texas lawyer to represent him now in California?

- OMG how have we not talked about Sareb's Kaufman's beard/earring combo yet?!?

- Also, Sareb??!?!?!

- ALSO, ALSO, I have a problem where I always sympathize with killers and stuff, because ultimately their lives are sad. And I felt the same way about Robert. I mean, sure, he's a nutjob who straight-up killed three people (at least), but he's also a sad sad sad case. Seeing his mother commit sui. Not being able to connect with people. That's all very sad. I'm not saying it excuses him from this shit, but I do feel super sad for him. I felt the same way when I read In Cold Blood and when I saw The Thin Blue Line. If you haven't read or seen them shits, go do that now. (links below)

- The freaking head from the Galveston murder is still missing. Do you think he fucking ate it?!?!

- Holy shit. I love all of you. I love that you watched this. Let's start a yahoo chat room so we can talk about this. My username is DickMcScroggins.

See ya in the chat room.


Here's a link to buy In Cold Blood, Truman Capote's true crime book about a mass killing of a family in Kansas. Probably my favorite book of all time. Capote gets incredible access to the killers on Death Row, tells their backstories, and somehow makes you feel both sympathetic toward them and the people they killed. And if you haven't seen Errol Morris's documentary The Thin Blue Line, I highly highly highly recommend it. About a he-said he-said cop-killing in Texas where two dudes claim to be innocent, but one is actually the killer. It's on Netflix. I would not read spoilers or anything about it. Just go watch it. You should also watch Andrew Jarecki's other doc, Capturing the Friedmans, about a pedophile from Long Island. Also amazing. Holy shit I'm jacked up today. 

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

The Bach: The Most Dramatic Ending to the Most Dramatic Season Ever

RIP you goddamn angel.

All year long, Harrison told us this was the most dramatic season ever. Week in and week out, he stood up there with THE SAME BORING HAIRCUT and delivered this message over and over and over again. We waited, and we watched, and we watched and waited some more, and we left comments on our favorite blog sites, and we even read our favorite blogger's sports blog even though we're not really that into sports -- I mean, sure, yeah, we'll watch it from time to time and March Madness is always cool and the Olympics, sure, love that, love all that, but whatever, we wanted to support him and increase his pageviews because maybe then he could quit his day job and pursue his dream of writing for Matt Lauer and The Today Show -- but then as Chris the Farmer sent Becca home last night, we realized Harrison was right all along. This was the most bonkers season of the Bach ever. Because how the hell did that lady last soooooooooooooooo freakingggggggg longggggggg?

Yo, that lady was so boring and such a virgin and spoke with such a flat affect. She brought nothing to the table -- NUH-THING -- but yet she had us wondering if he might pick her to the very, very end. Even Chris (the farmer, not the aforementioned lame-o hairstyle guy) described Becca to his sisters as, "athletic, and I dunno, also very grounded," two things every man looks for in a spouse/doubles partner. Although now that I think about it, I guess I now understand why the Bach producers didn't pick Serena Williams for this show, because that lady is outta control! And sure, Susan Sarandon is down-to-earth and all, but an absolutely terrible swimmer. Great job Bach producers! You found Chris's (almost) ultimate dream woman! I hope one day she comes out of that coma!

Becca was so emotionally unavailable. Just completely and totally incapable of having a romantic connection with anyone. I mean honestly, what the fuck did this guy see in her? WHAT DID WE SEE IN HER? HOW DID WE THINK FOR A SECOND THAT HE MIGHT PICK HER? When she was sent home, nothin. No reactsh. Could not have cared less. Chris might as well have said, "Hey Becks, sorry but they were out of the 2% greek yoges at the store. I had to get the 0%. Hope that's okay." And I'm not saying that's wrong, I'm just saying that I now totally understand why she's a virgj. I think she might've been molested as a child. That's my hypothesis. I'm not saying it's right, nor am I saying that it's appropriate for a world famous internet celebrity to throw such a dumbfounded unsubstantiated theory out to his literally millions of readers, but there is something about this woman's past that keeps her from having any sort of elevated human emotion (or a penis inside her vagina).

Vagina could not be drier.

Of course Chris chose Whitney! OF COURSE HE DID. She's wifey material. She's annoying as fuck, but will totally make her huzz an egg salad sandwich after he tweaks his back shoveling and needs something, anything, in his system. Frankly, I don't know how Chris is gonna deal with all of Whitney's "I love you" bullshit, but she seems fertile, so that's nice for her.

When they were rolling around on his stupid fucking tractor and Whitney was like, "I LOVE THIS SHIT! IS THIS FUCKING CORN? I LITERALLY OVULATE THREE WEEKS OUT OF EVERY MONTH," ugh, of course you do. Everything is exciting when you're first in love. My wife pretended to enjoy NBA basketball for the first six years we were together. And then one day, BLAMMO, she grabbed the remote and flipped over to some new channel called Bravo, and this blog was born (and the man inside me died). Chris could've done anything with Whitney and she would've loved it. That's why love is so stupes!

CHRIS:  Hey Whit, check it out, this is where we harvest our oats.

WHIT:  Wowwwwwww. There's so many oats!

CHRIS:  I know! And this is where we flarv the durbage.

WHIT:  Oooooohhhhhhhhh, is that where you flarv? I didn't know you could flarv stuff at this time of year.

CHRIS:  Yeah. And this is where I kill the black children. Not all of them. I don't kill all of them. Just some. And then I make the others watch their friends get murdered.

WHIT:  Do you?! That's awesommmmmme. That's just awesome. Thank you so much for sharing this with me. It really means a lot to me that you'd show me where you murder black children. Can I call your mom "Mimi"?

So now what?

Well, I guess these two will go off and have sex, and Chris will try to shoot his sperm as deep as he possibly can inside this woman's ovaries (?), and eventually it'll stick, and Whitney will gain weight, and flip out about stuff, and Chris will have to go out late at night to get her a Chunky bar because for some reason she needs a Chunky bar, not a Snickers bar, not a Baby Ruth, not even a 100 Grand even though they're so caramelly, no, a Chunky, and then eventually Chris will jerk off thinking about some woman whose hair he smelled while standing in line at the post office and then both of them will die.

Enjoy married life, you two.

The real drama is just beginning.

Ugh what a stupid ending to this blogpost. So cliché.

Fuck you, I'm out.

Hey all you Philly cats (and other people), I watched an amazing doc this weekend about the MOVE bombing. Check it out, it's called "Let the Fire Burn" and it's bonks. They only use old news footage and trial footage to tell the story and it's friggin fascinating. It's on Netflix. Also, Mad Men and Game of Frones start up in a few weeks so I'll probably be blogging about that stuff soon. Or I might just take this blog down and jam a bomb inside my own asshole. Peace. 

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

Coming April 23rd -- The Hudsucker Proxy pt II -- Y'all Ain't Ready

This motherfucker I swear to God.

Yo, no Bach post this week for two reasons:

1. I tried watching that Women Tell All ep and couldn't handle it. I just couldn't handle it. Between Britt's hug and Britt crying and goddamn Sanderson and the yelling and Chris Harrison calling the women "girls" and telling them to shut up and unveiling his new romance novel, I gave up on watching that bullshit after the first hour and 58 minutes. This show is friggin' terrible and I need a friggin' break. I think I deserve one. If you're still craving some Women Tell All bullshit, here's my collabo on Zoo With Roy with him and Sara Circs. But as far as TVMWMMWWM's recaps go, I'll be back next week to blog about the finale. Or maybe I won't. I sort of hope I'm dead.

2. I need to devote more time to making some goddamn money in this world. Since I started this blog FOUR AND A HALF YEARS AGO, I have always maintained that cash rulez everything around me. I don't write this shit to entertain you. This is not a creative outlet for me. I do this for the cheddah. Thank you to all of you who paypal'd me $$$ to Thank you to all of you who bought TVMWW t-shirts. Thank you to all of you who consistently spread my 700 Level isht around the internet. But it's time that I make some real motherfuckin' cash. And that's why...

I'm droppin' a new mixtape.

Yeah, you heard it, The Potato Man is back, and my new mixtape "The Hudsucker Proxy part II" is set to drop April 23rd. All freestyle. All fire. All straight-up in-yo-dome chimichanga-style hip hop. Y'all ain't ready. Y'all ain't never been ready. Bout to takeover this rap game once and for all. #HudSux

Most of you know that before I became a world famous television and sports blogger, I was an underground rap legend. During the 2000's, I dropped two solo album covers (no music, just covers) under the name The Potato Man, and one collabo jawn with my boy Loaves as part of the duo, Shit Sauce.


Also fire. 

You can listen to Shit Sauce's :30 second single "Nathan's a Doof" here (off the album Put The Clamps on 'Em). That jawn went double triple double plat, and was mixed, recorded, produced and sung by my main man Monkey. Loaves and I literally didn't do shit for this record besides set up the MySpace page (shout out Tom). But if you listen to that track for just ten seconds you'll realize why Shit Sauce was once recognized as the dopest Hawaiian rappers in the game.

"The Hudsucker Proxy part II" is gonna be illlllllllll. I don't know how many songs are gonna be on it yet. There might me none. But what I do know is that this is a more mature Potato Man comin' at ya. I got health insurance now. I got a bald spot. And my freestyle skillz will be all up in yo area on April 23rd. I expect all y'all mothafuckaz to buy that shit EARLY on iTunes. It's gonna be textbook Potato Man, with some purple rope-a-dope yope comin' straight at da Pope.

April 23rd. Y'all ain't ready.


- The Evster

aka The Potato Man aka Willie Dawkins aka Shreveport Sammy aka Westminster Abs aka Big Bad Willy Bing Bong

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The Bach: You're a Lucky Woman, Kaitlyn. You are a Lucky, Lucky, Lucky, Lucky Woman.

This is a horrible television show.

The Bach is in Bali! (Not to be confused with Mali, which I may have done last night before I was corrected by my know-it-all wife.) Farmer Chris mentioned that Bali is "the most exotic place" he's ever been, narrowly edging out the Applebee's in downtown Des Moines.


Despite the bonkers location, last night's episode was once again a total snoozefest, probably because the star of this show is a doorknob and the three women remaining are about as interesting as AM radio. We're left with one virgin (borrrinnngggggg), one woman who "just wants to have babies" (barfffffffffffffff) and one lady who after falling in love with a farmer has lost every bit of spunk she once had in her petite (and SLAMMIN') Canadian bod.

But I gotta tip my hat (not actually wearing one) to ABC's editors who threw a little bit of foreshadowing at us during the first few mins of last night's ep. As Kaitlyn was interviewed on her monkey date, she said, "All of a sudden there's that feeling of loss as a plossibility." Turns out, it was more than a plossibility, it was a plobability, and Kaitlyn was sent packing a few hours later. Also, I rewound that scene and watched it over again two more times and turns out she did not actually say "plossibility", she said "possibility", but I still wanted to pretend like she said "plossibility" because I am a liar.

Chris (the doorknob, not the host who makes literally 4 million dollars an episode) obviously should've kept Kaitlyn and sent the virgin home. This is clear because: A) virgins are boring and B) that's a good enough reason right there. The virgj claimed that Chris's response to hearing that she was a virgj "could not have gone better" after he restrained himself from screaming and running away before setting himself on fire.

omg her hair and lol his nose

Now of course as a reality TV expert, I know that you can't believe everything you see on these shows, and they never get these things right on the first take. Luckily, TVMWMWWWMMWMWM has gained exclusive access to the transcripts from last night's ep, which shows Chris spewing complete and total nonsense after the virgin told him that she was a virgin.

VIRGIN: So Chris, there's something I've been meaning to tell you.

CHRIS nods while mouth breathing.

VIRGIN: I'm aaaa... I'm a uhhhhh... I'm a uhhhhhhh...

CHRIS: Go on, you can tel--

VIRGIN: I'm a uhhhhh...

CHRIS: You're a uhhhhhh...

VIRGIN: I'm a virgin.


VIRGIN: I'm a virgin.


VIRGIN: I am a virgin.

CHRIS: Sorry, what?

VIRGIN: I'm a virgin. 

CHRIS: No yeah no no no yeah yeah, totally, TOTALLY. Yeah, yeah. Sorry, what?

VIRGIN: Oh god that feels so good to get off my chest. 

CHRIS: Yeah no. It's umm, what? You're a virrr, I'm sorry, do you? Because I...

VIRGIN: I've been meaning to tell--

CHRIS: I'm sorry do you hear someone cracking up in the background right now? Because I hear... Charlie? Is that you? We can hear you laughing, dude. 

CHARLIE: Sorry, sorry, sorry, I just--

PRODUCER: CUT! Cut cut cut! Cut!!! C'mon, Charlie.


PRODUCER: You knew she was a virgin, Charlie! We went over it in pre-production.

CHARLIE: I know, I know, but omg she's such a vir--

PRODUCER: I know. It's hilarious. And disgusting. But let's run it again, from the top.

VIRGIN: You want me to tell him I'm a virgin again?

PRODUCER: Yes. Yes please, virgin. Thank you. Let's do this again, people, from the top. Andddddddddd, action!

VIRGIN: Chris, there's something I've been meani--

CHRIS: I'm sorry can you still hear him laughing? Because I can still hear him laughing.

VIRGIN: I can still hear him laughing.


WINSTON: Me too.

CHARLIE: Sorry. Terribly sorry.

PRODUCER: C'mon, Charlie. 

CHARLIE: I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I promise. Go ahead, we're still rolling. I'm sorry.

PRODUCER: Okay, from the top. He's still laughing. I can hear him. Okay, are we ready? Anddddddddddddddddd... Charlie.

CHARLIE: I'm sorry, I'm sorry. It's just that...

CHRIS: She's a virgin! 

CHARLIE: You know these cameras are real, right? People will see this. People will WATCH you. 

CHRIS: Quick questch, quick questch: am I supposed to not crack up in her face when she's telling me she's a virgin? Because it's really hard to not just crack up in her face. Is Larry setting himself on fire? Larry?

RIP Larry (and Sanderson)

So now what, people? Now what?

Well, we're left with one boring lady (Whitney) whose #tits are wayyyyyyy bigger than I thought, and one virgin who is wayyyyyyy more boring than the boring lady. Obviously Whitney would be the perfect wife for Chris (the Bachelor, not the oh god give it a rest, Ev). She's sweet and she loves him and that whole thing I wrote before about the #tits and how big they are and how everybody loves big #tits. And the virgin, well, c'mon, let's not be ridiculous. Either way, we're all going to die someday, so do whatever you want, Chris.

(The farmer, not the tweedledick hustler who has somehow finagled his way into making millions of dollars by doing nuh-thingggggggg.)


Bye bye, Kaitlyn.

I liked you.

Your tattoos were dumb, though.

What are those, swallows?

Yo yo yow, I put up one of them #GoogSearch posts the other day. Did you read it? You should. People seem to like them. Whatever here's a giraffe eating dinner

Monday, February 23, 2015

Some New #GoogSearches That Led People to TVMWMWMWMWMWMW

Goggle it!

Welcome back to everybody's (or just @cranekicker's) favorite recurring post on the blog, #GoogSearches. For those of you who need things explained to you, here's what this is all aboot (ps I'm Canadian now).

When people come to the blog via searching for stuff on the internet, Google Analytics allows me to see what they've searched for. For examps, if someone types "fart clamps" into Google, my site might come up because I once wrote a post that had the words "fart" and "clamps" in it. It's obviously amazing so I figured I'd share. Here are some of the latest and greatest #GoogSearches.


Thanks for visiting my website, everybody!

ps fuck you!

It's okay I'm Canadian!

Click here for more #GoogSearches

Oscar Recap: American Sniper gets sniped, Patricia Arquette reads from piece of paper and Birdman much? I know right lol

Friday, February 20, 2015

The Oscars: Best Picture Preview w/ Feddd and Sara Circs

Bottom left is unacceptable. 

I do not know what compelled me to publish two (2) separate Oscar preview posts. The Academy Awards aren’t even that interesting, and last week’s Best Actor/Actress preview only generated 144 pageviews. To give you a little context, Tuesday’s Bach post generated 4 billion pageviews while last week’s Downton Abbey post forced 16 computers into automatic sleep mode.

I guess the red carpet stuff is okay (I do love that Mani Cam -- and can we PLEASE get a Pedi Cam?!) and the dead people montage is great (RIP Sanderson), but the rest of the show is a snoozer. I think I the only reason I write about it is because it’s fun to join in on a national conversashe (and I’m secretly a total star fucker). Plus, it seemed like a good excuse to invite my two good pals, TVMWW’s Official Hollywood Correspondents, Feddd and Sara Circs, back to da blog to share their insider Hollywood knowledge. Because what is life without long distance online cyber relationships and forcing your friends to do shit they don’t want to do.

So welcome back, guys!

FEDDD: What up! I wanted to sincerely tell you guys that is always fun to link up with you both and bring our different voices, tastes and perspectives to this deeply, deeply unpopular feature.

SARA CIRCS: I have not viewed a motion picture since 1994!

Best pic noms, clockwise starting from top left: The Grand Budapest Hotel (loved it), Whiplash (never heard of it), Birdbath (the story of a man and his birdbath), Selma and Louise (sorry), American Snipey (did he shoot that kid or WHAT?), The Imitation Game (shut up), Theory of Everything (bit of a lofty title if you ask me), Boyhood (aka Boyz in the Hood Part Deux aka Not Boyz in the Hood aka Boyzie Idaho the movie aka I'm sorry and I hate myself)

EV: Okay, this week we’re gonna break down Best Pictsh (or talk about whatever we want to talk about because seriously NO ONE is reading this). Watch, I’m gonna just type stuff that doesn’t make sense: Floors dale railings sauce. JIMMINY rice bangs! Can I get a peanut parp? YOU DAVED IT. 

FEDDD: Obviously my first thought is "Did you guys ever see that pic of Benedict Cumberbatch doing motion capture for Smaug?" because that is my entry point into every conversation.

Nice smauging. 

EV: I do that exact same stretch for my lower back and I'm not kidding. They're called press-ups. (I call them dick-ups.)

FEDDD: I've only seen four of these movies, but I have seen all 8 movie posters. You have to give Selma a lot of credit for breaking the trend of depicting brooding men looking right at us or at some drums or a rad sniper gun and instead having a guy with his back to us. What a power move!

But you have to give even MORE credit to the one movie that doesn't show any people at all and just straight up features a building.

Now of course I am biased here for two reasons. First, Grand Budapest Hotel was my favorite movie of the year, inching out Raid 2 and YouTube video "obese dog farts on a pigeon". And second, I am what you might call a TOTAL ARCHITECTURE NUT who also does not enjoy the gaze, touch, company or idea of other people. This movie was for me! That said, Richard Linklater filmed Boyhood over 12 years which is the ultimate power move and he's got this category in the bag. Now if you'll indulge me in a brief acceptance speech of my own: Thank you very much to the 144 of you who are reading this or the 12 of you who are reading this 12 times.

EV: Boyhood absolutely blew my butt all over my butt (I have two butts). The movie itself was only a B; the story was fine, the dialogue was decent, but the gimmick ramped it up to an A+ and that song at the end caused tears to drip out my butt (I have butt eyes).

Grand Butt was great too. Wes Anderson can do whatever he wants and I’ll love him unconditionally. It wasn’t his besttttttttttttt movie, I think that’s clear, and I think it got nominated because of some Hollywood politics stuff, and some studio big wigs are trying to get him and his movies into the mainstream so that maybe one day they can start to make some money, but I have absolutely no idea if that’s true and am totally talking out of my butt (I lied before, I actually have three butts and one of them is my mouth and I actually have nine butts and that’s why people call me Nine Butt Wally).

SARA CIRCS: Guys, you might be wondering what I’m doing here, as I did not see a single one of these movies. Truth be told, the last movie I saw in the theater was Annie: Cameron Diaz Is Over, and that was ONLY because it was the only kids’ movie that was out at the time. Even though I bought two tickets, my four-year-old son (five as of today!!), who is three quarters my size, sat on my lap the entire time. Over the course of the film, he ate 16 lbs of popcorn, squirmed impatiently during numerous uncomfortable rap moments, and asked to leave early because apparently he’s only interested in orphans when they’re white (Oliver (1968), Best Picture, Best Director, Best Art Direction-Set Decoration, Best Sound, Best Music, Score of a Musical Picture).

So, what am I doing here? Well I will fucking tell you. Look at those movie posters. You know what I see? I see a bunch of fucking dudes (and a hotel and a drumset and, yes, okay, one woman, but also a birdman). Hmm. Seems 2015 is the year of the dudes. Thrilled we’re finally recognizing dudes in movies. Thrilled I’m the first person ever to make this point. Hey guys, it looks like dudes are having their moment! Finally, a mome for dudes. Hey dudes, can you combine two sperm to make a person? No? THEN SIT THE FUCK DOWN. I’m ready for a movie that literally has zero dudes in it, twenty fucking women, and just shitloads of ova (dudes, that’s latin for FEMALE EGGS). The plot of the movie is that the ova join together to make an ova army and turn global warming around. Ova Easy (2016), Best Pictsh, Best Actress, Best Actor (as Portrayed by an Actress), Best Ovum, Best Everything Else.) I am absolutely going to murder a man in the next 72 hours.

EV: Holy shit.

FEDDD: I'm with the broad on this one!

EV: So are you Los Angeles dipshits doing anything for the big show? Hot parties? Cold dips? I'm thinking about growing another butt.

FEDDD: I am going to rent a car and drive it into the ocean.

SARA CIRCS: Sharpening my scimitar.

EV: So no dips then?

Read last week's preview on Best Actor and Best Actress here or don't I honestly don't give a shit. 

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

The Bach: Last night we met a guy named Laren. Yes, you read that right. Laren.

Wowzers bowzers.

I am letting you know right off the bat that this entire post is about Laren. No, that's not even true, it's about the fact that there is a person in this world named Laren. In my 37 years as a human, I have never once heard the name Laren. I have heard of Jaren, as in Jaren Jackson, former shooting guard for the San Antonio Spurs and Portland Trailblazers, but never Laren. But after last night, I have now heard the name Laren. And that deserves its own blog post. 

When Jade said his name for the first time last night I turned my wife and said "Did she just say Laren?" and my wife wasn't really paying attention because she was looking at pictures of our cat on her phone so I rewound it and turns out that yes, his name was in fact Laren. And that's incredible. 

Originally in my notes I jotted his name down as "Laryn," with a Y, but it's actually Laren with an E (like the normal spelling of Karen, except not that name, because this man's name is Laren). When you stop and think about it for a sec you can almost convince yourself that Laren is in fact a name, like Lauren, or Jaren, but it's not. Or at least it wasn't until last night.

It's amazing how fine I am with the name Jaren. Maybe that's because I'm used to black people giving their kids fucked up names. And before you go off and are all, "OMG EV THAT'S SO (Raven, also a fucked up name) RACIST," shut up. Just shut up. It has long been acknowledged that black people give themselves some fucked up names. We're allowed to say that. That's a thing. But white people are starting to catch up. My stupid brother and his wife named their son Adlai (pronounced "Add-lay") and they expect people to know how to say this kid's name. Some people say Add-lie. Others say Ad-ah-lay. Even Adlai who is two and a half has no idea how to say his own name. I walk up to that dude and I'm like, "Yo Adlai lemme see that pirate hat," and he's like, "I'm Ah-lay" and I'm like, "What?" and he's like, "I'm Ah-lay!" and I'm like, "No you're not dude you're Adlai and your name is fucked up as shit so pass me that pirate hat if you wanna see your Uncle Ev lookin flyyyyyyy as fuh baby BAY-BEH," and then he snatches the hat and puts it on his own head WHEN HE KNOWS I WANNA TRY IT ON.

Laren seems to actually be doing quite okay for himself despite the fact that his name is Laren. He's got a cute, modest little rancher house in Nebrask and a daughter who is wayyyyyyyyyyy sexier than any virgin. He also has a piano in his home. A piano! That was shocking. Absolutely shocking. That coulda been its own blog post right there, and I recognize that it's totally #rude of me to be surprised that those people had a piano, but I was fucking SHOCKED that those people had a piano. I wonder who plays it? Probably Laren. Obviously Laren. He's a renaissance Laren.

Besides raising a daughter who showed off her vagj in Playbs (which I greatly appreciate) Laren also produced a son who looks exactly like Boyhood director, Richard Linklater... 

I know!
Shout out my boy @lolarsystem for the pic. 

This post easily could've been 30,000 words about Richard Linklater Junior. But it's not. It's about Jaren. I mean Laren. See even right there I wanted to call him Jaren because that seems like a name that you might actually say. But that's not this man's name. This man's name is Laren. 

Of all the people we've met so far this season, Laren is by far my favorite, and not just because his name is Laren (although that obviously plays a big part in it). Laren and Jade seemed to have a real, sweet, emotional father-daughter connection. And he was totally supportive of the whole glossy vagina thing.

Anyway, I fucking love that guy and would love to watch him play the piano while his son stood in the background doing nothing besides looking like Richard Linklater Joons. Also I am so fucking happy that Britt was sent home because she was lame as shit and not to say I told you so, but I told you so!!!

I also told you this post was gonna be only about Laren. 

See you next week, everybody!

RIP Sanderson. 

This song goes out to Carly (who I actually liked). 


Yoooooooooooooo, want more Bach stuff? Check out our Bachcap™over at Zoo With Roy. Or don't who cares life is meaningless. Here's some pictures of Frank. 

One of his favourite spots.