Follow by Email

Google+ Followers

Friday, July 31, 2015

The Incredibly Moderate Actor/Comedian



  So much is said about the best and the worst.  It’s unfair.  How about the performer you frequently like, but don’t love, and sometimes dislike, but don’t hate?
  Where’s the love for being average?
  For this reason, Just Plain Stupid salutes:  Robbie Coltrane!
  Yes, it’s true, the Harry Potter movies threatened to move this average comedian into the good column,
but his consistently sub-par stand-up, balances out the picture.
  Did you like him as Matsui in Oceans Twelve?
    Well, don’t forget Nuns on the Run!
  His voice work is above average, such as Lord Dingwall in Brave,
but he cleverly does acid and gets plastered in public on occasion
– not enough to seem too obnoxious, just enough to keep his balance.
  The brilliance of Robbie Coltrane is that he seeks this balanced ledger approach to his comedic acting career.  He’s a popularity Buddha.  He even looks like one.
  Okay - that might be a Hindu somebody, but you get my point.
  He was getting too lovable as Hagrid, so he dissed the Lord of the Rings franchise, but in such a way that I don't think he even completely understands his criticism.
  So next time you see Robbie, tell him sincerely that sometimes he's pretty good, and he never completely stinks.
  Moderate praise for the man who strives for average.


The last time Siskel and Ebert agreed to pan a movie, it was Nuns on the Run.

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Mischief Magic

It's not a rational world. What's the most irrational about our irrational world is that we pretend that our irrational world is actually rational.
Don't believe me.
I might not know you. I might never have met you. I don't know your house, apartment, cardboard box or what-ever, but I GUARANTEE that this has happened to you.
(Guarantee is not backed by financial or contractual obligations.)

You're missing something - maybe your keys, your phone, your nose-hair clipper. You're looking all over. You think you left it on/in/under the XXXX. For that reason you naturally look on/in/under the XXXX first. As it begins to drive you crazy, you start looking at places you've already looked. You look on/in/under the XXXX a second time. Finally you throw up your hands (you never should have eaten them in the first place,) and give up. You sit on the couch in a funk and start watching an old re-run of Tool Time. You don't change the channel even though you can't stand Tim Allen.
   It turns out to be a Tool Time marathon - 56 hours of Tool Time, uninterrupted by commercials.
You still don't change the channel. You are really in a funk.
After innumerable Tim Allen gratuitous grunts, your kid, significant other, neighborhood busybody comes in and sees you slumped on your couch in depression and self-hatred.
"You don't like that show, do you?" asks your kid, significant other, your neighborhood busybody.
(The busybody - who does like the show - shoves you over and sits next to you.)
"You're right!" you scream, "but I can't find my keys, phone, or nose-hair clipper."
"You mean this?" asks your kid or significant other. (The busybody pockets the item because he/she has really course nose hairs.)

"Where did you find that?" you scream to your kid or significant other. (Your busybody neighbor is already at home, plugging in your nose-hair clipper.)
It was right here on/in/under the XXXX.
You throw up your hands again (an odd form of bulimia.) Unfortunately, you can't see to clean up the mess because your busybody neighbor blew a transformer
 
(or maybe it was a Polly Pocket,) from drawing too much juice trying to clip his/her nose hairs.
But you figure that you're going blind or crazy or both. You don't blame mischief magic, and you never ask your neighbor for your nose-hair clipper back (probably a good call on that one.)
So the elves, gnomes, and Donald Segretti
are safe to do their mischief another day.

All because you don’t believe in mischief magic (and you neighbor has hirsute DNA.)


I don't know if this is magical - unless stupid is magic.

Friday, July 24, 2015

Pictures? Yeah, I've Got Your Stinkin' Pictures!

   

   So last post, FreedomPop had decided to sabotage this blog.  I had to reset the router/modem in order to get forty seconds online - then wait a while before it would work for another 40.  Hence, I posted a lovely story with no pictures or video.  It was a story nobody liked.
   "Where's the video?  I like the videos!"  "I didn't get your story, but it probably wouldn't be so bad with pictures."
   So, for the rest of this post I'll give you random pictures I've stole... collected from others people's FB posts, and I won't get in the way with commentary.

















   There!  Nothing to whine about.  Oh, and welcome back, Bloom County.
  

And now - a random video.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Two Little Magic Words

Due to server issues, today's post of Just Plain Stupid is limited to text only.

Two Little Magic Words
by Headley Hauser
I’d signed on as the quest’s conjurer. It’s true I had no experience in magic, but that didn’t matter. A decade’s worth of participation trophies and good attitude ribbons told the tale. I would excel in my task because I was special – just like every other kid in my neighborhood.
I also had one other advantage – magic words, two of them to be exact, and I had great confidence in these magical utterances. They had never failed me in the past, and even the possibility they might fail me on this quest was beyond my comprehension.
Together with my band of common adventures, we struggled through hardships and battles. They did all the fighting and climbing. Being the conjurer, I demanded that they carry me through the rough spots, and protect me from the dangers.
I also let them do all the cooking and cleaning, but I praised them for their work so that they could feel good about themselves.
They never gave me credit for that. Actually, shortly into our adventures I caught a number of dirty looks.
“That’s not good attitude,” I warned them.
“Well you could help out more,” they grumbled.
“You forget that I am special,” I warned them. “I am somebody because I was made for a special purpose. There is nothing I cannot do if I want it badly enough.”
“You mean like turn us all into banana slugs?” one asked.
“If that’s what I wanted to do,” I answered.
Their attitude improved somewhat after that. While they worked to dig us out of mountain goblin prison, I made little ‘improved attitude’ trophies for each of them out of chips of rock and stale biscuit. They didn’t say thank you, but I think it meant a lot to each of them.
“Maybe you could conjure us out of this prison,” one of them asked.
“No,” I replied. “My magic words are too special. I better save them. And you are doing such a wonderful job digging us out with your hands manacled like that. Good job! You are each so special!”
Yes, that was a lot of praise for such common work, but I figured they needed the pick-me-up.
Later in the snow wastes I demanded an extra cloak. It was far colder than I found acceptable.
"If one us gives you his cloak," they complained, "he will freeze to death."
"Not if you share," I told them. "Sharing makes every task easier."
One of them - I never learned his name, grumbled, "Maybe we should share in getting rid of you."
"Now, now," I said patiently, "remember my two magic words!"
They shared, but not with a co-operative attitude. I made a note in my book that each of them should lose one gold star when we finished our quest.
Days later, the food ran out. I knew it was gone because I ate the last of it. The ration they had given me was far too small, and I've always been helpless against the late-night munchies.
"Alright," said the leader guy. "This is it. Even if we won't have your magic later, it won't do us any good if we starve to death. Use your magic words."
"You're certain?" I asked.
"Yup!" he said.
"Then hand me your largest food container." The container turned out to be a poncho, which isn't exactly Tupperware and was far from sanitary. I decided to be generous and ignore their negligence and poor hygiene. I held out the poncho as my fellow adventurers backed away in fear. I took a solemn moment before I uttered the two words that I knew had never failed me.
"Yes, please."
Nothing happened. No food appeared in the grubby poncho. I wondered if its lack of cleanliness was the problem for I knew it couldn't be my magic words. All during my childhood I had gotten anything I wanted each time I spoke those two words.
The other adventurers came closer. Once again I held up the poncho.
"YES! PLEASE!"
No food appeared, though the adventurers looked ready to eat. Each pulled out his knife and fork. Why did the leader have that funny look in his eye?
"Mom?" I called. "Dad... Grandma? I SAID YES, PLEASE!"
And that's how I came to haunt this scruffy pack of adventurers. I can accept that they cooked me and ate me...
But they didn't even say, Thank You!


Friday, July 17, 2015

Pluto - What are we looking at?



This week several of my FB friends (well okay, three) have been excited about the pictures of the once (and future?) planet, Pluto. I was relieved when I saw the first pictures because at first I thought they were talking about Bluto,
and even though Popeye always managed to beat him at the end of every cartoon... that guy has always scared me.
Back to Pluto. As I understand it, the story goes like this.
Pluto was discovered in 1930 and was designated a planet. That must have been gratifying. I could look up the name of the guy that discovered it, but that sounds like work.

Then 76 years later, some other guy uses geometry, trigonometry and other stuff I don't understand to prove that Pluto was not a planet.

Tough break.
Then they felt bad, and decided to call Pluto a dwarf planet.

I'm not sure if it was before or after, but sometime in there, they cremated the first guy.
Science folk play for keeps.

They took the ashes of the first guy and put them in a space thingy to toss them out on Pluto.
Does that count as a manned flight?
Mayor de Blasio is monitoring the operation. Seeing as the ex-planet already has a litter problem, NYC has lots of garbage they'd like to throw on the pile.

But while they were exiling that freeze-dried space guy, they took pictures. That's what has my brainy, or nerdy (is there a difference?) FB friends all excited.
But not everybody sees these pictures the same way.
Wait, wasn't Pluto supposed to be the dog planet?
Walt Disney must have had great vision

We humans are pretty creepy

Not this creepy.  Maybe we shouldn't piss off Pluto
Though it's still not as scary as Bluto

   Here's a Pluto I can understand.