Open Post: Hosted By This Poor Dog Trying To Get A Stick Across A Bridge

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This poor pooch’s owners are assfaces. This isn’t cute! He wants to bring his big stick with him across the bridge and it won’t fit. And dogs don’t know the concept of sideways! And this witch holding the camera is giggling at him. She could at least walk her ass up and carry it across for him. It’s not like he knows geometry or spatial relations. She’s laughing like it’s a cat on a Roomba. She’s a sadist and so is that dude on the other side of the bridge urging the dog to come to him. Does PETA or the ASPCA know about this? It might not be on the level of staging dog fights but think about a canine’s dignity. Switch his damn stick out for a shorter one! I hope one day she’s trying to get into her prom dress to see if it still fits and she’s having a little difficulty and she hears snickering. And upon turning around, she sees her dog training this camera on her and mocking her with his cruel giggling. Karma’s going to bill you, Cruella DeVille!

Pic: YouTube

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Open Post: Hosted By The Italian Pole Dancing Christmas Sex Elf

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Now THAT’s a gig to bring any resume to the next level. Queerty was kind enough to introduce us to Italy’s Domenico Vaccaro. He’s an acrobat and pole dancer who obviously can’t resist a holiday theme when it comes to his act. He posted vid of himself on Instagram pole dancing to Mimi while dressed as an elf. Domenico really knows how to work those crushed velvet pantaloons.

For those of you who want some fap inspiration for Christmas this year, the rest of Domenico’s Instagram seems to use the “why am I drooling?” filter on most of his pics.

Domenico’s efforts should be applauded except for one aspect of his performance. That damn song. You can’t go anywhere without that damn song playing. You can’t go to the mall. You can’t turn on the TV. You can’t make funeral arrangements for your grandma at the mortuary. You can’t even go to sleep because it plays in your dreams for the entirety of December. It’s like some horrible glitch in the time-space continuum where a tesseract exploded and the fallout was that song enveloping us for a certain 25 days every year. Can Dr. Who or someone knowledgable in this sort of thing save us from this omnipresent aural savagery?

Pic: Instagram

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Open Post: Hosted By A PSA For The Dangers Of Cementing Your Head In A Microwave 

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In case you didn’t already know that cementing your head in a microwave is a really fucking shit-brained idea unless you want to die a slow, painful death, I am here to tell you that cementing your head in a microwave is a really fucking shit-brained idea unless you want to die a slow, painful death.

A YouTube prankster (because of course) came up with a really creatively dumb way to waste a microwave and some cement. HuffPo says that Jay Swingler, a 22-year-old prankster from the town of Wolverhampton in England, recorded a Darwin Award-worthy stunt for the YouTube channel TGFBro that involved him trying to make a cement mold of his face. Jay wrapped a plastic bag around his head (genius move #1), stuck a little tube in his mouth so he could breathe (genius move #2), put his head in a microwave (genius move #3) and let a fellow bro pour cement into the microwave (genius move #4). Weirdly enough, it’s kind of hard to pull your head out of a microwave filled with hardened concrete. That mafia torture technique went south real fast.

Jay’s bros spent 90 minutes trying to get his head out of the microwave, and they eventually had to call for help. West Midlands Fire Service spent an hour freeing Jay’s head from that concrete tomb of death. They weren’t happy about it:

Jay is fine and his head didn’t suffer any kind of damage (although, he may have been brain dead while thinking up this stunt). Sure Jay’s bros could’ve pulled his head off of his neck while trying to get him out of that microwave and he could’ve suffocated to death, but it was all worth it, because that video has gotten over 1 million views so far. Imagine if it didn’t get 1 millions views? He would’ve died for real…of embarrassment!!!

Jay also did another video where he shit on critics for saying what he did was stupid and he thanked the firefighters for comforting him while he thought he was going to die. He also said that he doesn’t care about the hate, because what he did was legendary. It’s true, word is that THE QUEEN is planning to knight him for bringing pride to England. So don’t call Jay a dumbass, call him Sir Dumbass, thankyouverymuch.

Pic: @WestMidsFire

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Bob Odenkirk is Fantastic in ‘The Post,’ and He Also Shouldn’t Have Been Cast

It’s 2017, the year all of our hellscape nightmares came to life and gleefully fucked us over, so it’s not that surprising that it’s also the year when so many of cinema’s well-respected directors—names we’ve recognized for decades—continued to profoundly let us down.

I will forever resent Ridley Scott for responding to charges of whitewashing in his failed Moses epic, Exodus: Gods and Kings, with the outburst that he couldn’t cast «Mohammad so-and-so.» That’s a crappy, ignorant statement that doesn’t go away just because Scott protected his bottom line and earlier this year replaced Kevin Spacey with Christopher Plummer is his upcoming All the Money in the World. Then there’s Martin Scorsese, who in the trade publication The Hollywood Reporter lambasted Rotten Tomatoes (on which, full admission, some other Pajiba writers and I are approved critics) as «nothing to do with real film criticism» and «insulting,» ignoring the fact that the media landscape has changed and that those writing positions Scorsese seems to wish still existed just don’t with the way the journalism industry has shifted over the years. Instead of supporting new voices, Scorsese attacked and undermined them, failing to understand that most people who do this don’t «take pleasure in seeing films and filmmakers rejected» but actually love cinema, which is why we’re consuming and writing and analyzing. None of us is getting rich from this.

Harry Potter director David Yates (and, very disappointingly, author J. K. Rowling) have continued to defend Johnny Depp, even though recasting him in the Fantastic Beasts franchise would be astonishingly easy and a move of good faith for their audience. Quentin Tarantino admitted that he should have done more about Harvey Weinstein. Woody Allen is still Woody fucking Allen.

And amid all this resurfaces Steven Spielberg, one of the most commercially successful and celebrated directors of the old vanguard, who hasn’t said anything idiotic or done anything irredeemably frustrating yet, and who delivers this holiday season The Post, a movie that is very good but feels, as Pajiba’s Kristy Puchko noted in her review earlier this week, very safe. It is inspirational, and Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks are amazing, and it falls a little short, and for me that is encapsulated in the casting of Bob Odenkirk as the Armenian-American Washington Post journalist with the given name Ben-Hur Haig Bagdikian. Does something about that feel off to you? It should.

Whitewashing is everywhere; whitewashing happens every day; and it feels like a new wound every time, especially when it’s an actor who is beloved. And at this point in his career, that’s what Odenkirk is, thanks to the continued underground appeal of Mr. Show with David Cross (who also appears in The Post), his years of comedy work, and his transition into dramatic leading man with the critically adored Better Call Saul. The Breaking Bad stans keep tuning in and maintaining the success of the AMC series, and aside from Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman, Odenkirk is kind of everywhere, appearing in awards-season contenders like Nebraska and on other well-respected TV shows like FX’s Fargo.

It’s probably safe to say that Odenkirk has never been this popular before, and his supporting role in The Post is not only the biggest, most mainstream thing he’s ever done, but he’s also extremely good in it. (Spoilers ahead for The Post, if you don’t know the history already.) Odenkirk portrays Bob Bagdikian, a managing editor at the Post who used to work at the think tank the RAND Corporation and who realizes, once the New York Times starts writing about the Pentagon Papers, that a colleague he knew at RAND could have been the whistleblower. While Streep’s Katherine Graham and Hanks’s Ben Bradlee argue about the future of The Washington Post, Bob is the one pursuing his lead, switching between pay phones so he doesn’t get tracked (and, in a very funny scene, dropping his pen, notepad, and change in a moment of flustered satisfaction) and eventually getting his hands on the papers.

When he reconnects with Matthew Rhys’s Daniel Ellsberg, who spent years smuggling documents out of RAND and photocopying them to keep a record of the U.S. government’s decades of lies about the Vietnam War, Bob is weary and wary, exhausted by the pursuit, paranoid about the vindictiveness of the Nixon White House, and aware that publishing the papers could «theoretically» end in jail for him. But when Ellsberg presses him for a guarantee that the Post will publish, he agrees, and later defends his source from Post lawyers demanding to know who it was. Bagdikian is clearly the best journalist in the film: Hanks gets the inspirational speeches and gruff demeanor as Bradlee, and Streep gets her feminist moment as Graham finally embraces her role as leader of the company, but it’s Odenkirk whose sleuthing, people skills, and profound loyalty secure the Pentagon Papers and open up the possibility for the Post to publish in the first place. He’s ultimately a paragon of journalistic virtue, and Odenkirk is quite good at capturing the nuances of that character, and still, he shouldn’t have been cast.

What does The Post tell us about Bob Bagdikian, aside from his involvement in the Pentagon Papers? Not much, but he was fascinating in real life, a survivor of the Armenian Genocide in Turkey as a child who immigrated to the United States, studied medicine and chemistry before switching to journalism, served in World War II, and who later went undercover as a murderer in a maximum-security prison to write about the devastating cruelty of life on the inside. Bagdikian was one hard dude, and presenting him just as some white guy, which is what Spielberg does by casting Odenkirk, flattens his experiences. Sure, in the 1900s a Boston judge decided that if Jewish people should count as white to the U.S. government, so should Armenians, but as the years have passed it has become more and more clear that those simplistic ways of lumping together various cultures and ethnicities aren’t valid anymore. Which is to say that Odenkirk, with his Irish and German ancestry, simply isn’t believable as someone whose name is Bagdikian. He’s just not.

A couple of different films specifically about the Armenian Genocide were released in 2017, and neither was particularly good. (Outside of the Kardashians, it seems like the only way Armenians appear in pop culture is through that tragic event, which the Turkish government still denies.) The Ottoman Lieutenant, with Game of Thrones actor Michiel Huisman, kind of obfuscates whether the genocide even happened, instead pursuing a romance storyline between an idealistic American nurse and a conflicted Ottoman lieutenant (of course). And The Promise, despite a respectable cast with Christian Bale and Oscar Isaac, flopped pretty hard, earning only about $ 10 million on a $ 90 million budget. In The Promise, Isaac (who is Guatemalan and Cuban), Le Bon (who is French Canadian), Punisher actress Shohreh Aghdashloo (who is Iranian), and Westworld actress Angela Sarafyan (who is actually Armenian!), all play Armenians, and it goes without saying that Sarafyan’s and Aghdashloo’s castings are the most correct of those four. You know who, like Isaac and Le Bon, also would have looked out of place playing an Armenian in that movie? BOB. ODENKIRK.

The Post is a fine film, one of Spielberg’s best in years that segues into All the President’s Men in a thrilling way, and it has received a variety of nominations and awards from regional critics’ groups, who in the past week have begun to announce their best films of the year. But with the casting of Odenkirk, Spielberg demonstrates a blind spot that seems of a type with Scott’s slight against Muslims, Scorsese’s rant against the Internet, and the other shortcomings of that directing class. Did you notice that they’re all older white men? Huh. I wonder if there’s anything to that.

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Open Post: Hosted By The Faux Sign Language Interpreter Who Signed Gibberish At A News Conference 

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Those balding dudes in ties are making faces like they know that something in the milk ain’t doing sign language right.

Tampa Bay Times says that on November 28, the police department held a news conference about the arrest of a possible serial killer who has been terrorizing the neighborhood of Seminole Heights. The news conference co-starred an American sign language interpreter who was supposed to be interpreting that cop’s words for the hearing impaired. But the deaf people who watched had the same reaction that those of us who can hear have when we listen to Ozzy Osbourne. They had no idea what the fuck she was saying. She was signing pure gibberish. How do you say, “Bitch, wut?!” in sign language?

After deaf advocacy groups let the Tampa Police Department know that they should get a refund for their ASL interpreter because she wasn’t interpreting shit, they told the media that they didn’t exactly request an interpreter for the press conference. She just showed up, said she was the ASL interpreter and so they put her in front of the camera. The police department says they’re looking into who sent her and how she got there.

Meanwhile, the fraudulent ASL interpreter has been ID’d as Derlyn Roberts, and she’s dealt with the Tampa Police Department before. But the last time she dealt with them was when she was arrested for organized fraud. She was convicted in 2012 and just got out of prison last year. And the fraud flower of Florida struck again!

The hearing impaired must’ve wondered what the Redwood Forest and the New York island had to do with a serial killer in Tampa, because I’m pretty sure she’s doing the moves for This Land Was Made For You And Me. I’m also pretty sure that she threw up signs for about six gangs and also hit on all of us by doing the “peen” in “hole” sign.

And once the investigation wraps up, I’m sure officials will announce that they’re not going to press charges against Derlyn. Instead, they’re going to honor her for perfectly upholding Florida’s state motto: Keep fuckery alive!

Pic: YouTube

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Open Post: Hosted By The Real Tonya Harding With Movie Tonya Harding 

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Ahahahahaha, I’m still laughing over this homely hag playing me in a movie. Hollywood is so weird!” – Tonya Harding in that picture.

About 23 years ago, Tonya Harding was down in out after she lost her figure skating career over her ex-husband and bodyguard hiring some goon to bust out her rival’s kneecap. But look at Tonya now! She’s happy and healthy-looking and standing next to a movie star at the big Hollywood premiere of a movie that would’ve never happened if she stopped her ex-husband and bodyguard from hiring some goon to bust out her rival’s kneecap. Tonya and the movie version of her, Margot Robbie, posed together at last night’s Hollywood premiere of I, Tonya at The Egyptian Theater. Tonya wore a dress from Cabela’s black label collection and Margot wore an off-brand Elvira Hancock from Scarface costume from Big Lots.

I, Tonya is getting a lot of Oscar talk, including some for Margot Robbie, which I don’t know why since Julie Brown gave the only Tonya Harding performance we need. But Allison Janney, who was there last night serving pure glah-moor in a gold-dipped caftan, is getting the most Oscar talk. As of now, it looks like the Best Supporting Actress Oscar race is down to her for playing Tonya’s abusive monster of a mom and Laurie Metcalf for Lady Bird. I hope that Allison picked up her caftan and ran off when Tonya whispered in her ear last night, “So, Al, I hear the Oscur is down to you and your rival Aunt Jackie. You know I know I guy….

Pics: Wenn.com

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Open Post: Hosted By A Norwegian Footballer Doing Sex To A Trophy 

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This was me yesterday: What are sports?

This was me three seconds after watching the striptease busted out by a Norwegian footballer: I love Norwegian football!

The Telegraph says that on Sunday, a Norwegian football team called Lillestrøm beat another Norwegian football team called Sarpsborg and won the Norwegian cup. Lillestrøm’s defender Aleksander Melgalvis Andreassen decided to celebrate in a way that is extremely relevant to my interests.

Aleksander stripped down to his Norwegian sausage and huevos before sticking his dick in the Norwegian cup. I thought that the gayest thing I’d see today would be the reflection in the mirror of me putting a Santa’s little helper costume on my dog while singing along to Charo’s Mamacita, Donde este Santa Claus. But that gay moment was topped (and not just because that gay moment is a big ole’ sloppy bottom) by the video of a Norwegian footballer doing a sexy strip dance in front of all of his dude teammates before sticking his dick in the cup they all probably posed with afterward.

The video has been ripped off of YouTube, but you can see it on Bild.de. I don’t want to be responsible for you getting a case of blue balls, so I have to tell you that there’s no VP (visible peen) in the video. Click here to watch it.

The Telegraph says that some prudes didn’t think Aleksander’s stunt was funny and they believe the cup deserves more respect. To which I say, “Steng din dumme munn og la en naken, rotete varm ho være en naken, rotete, varm ho!” Google Translate tells me that’s Norwegian for: “Shut your stupid mouth and let a naked messy hot ho be a naked messy hot ho!

But seriously, it’s all fun and bareback trophy fucking until nine months later when that trophy is hitting Aleksander up for child support money after birthing out their kid. Athletes are such wrecks that it was only a matter of time before one of their trophy wives was an actual trophy.

Pic: Bild.de

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Open Post: Hosted By Mimi Magically Sitting On An Invisible Chair 

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If FitBit made a solid gold one that’s covered in diamonds, and one of Mimi’s benefactors gave one to her, it would get about as much action as I do. Us peons were given legs so that we could walk or whatever, but Mimi was given legs so that pureed diamonds and pink dolphin jizz could be slathered on them by shirtless boy toys on a yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean somewhere. And it looks like Mimi sits so much (case in point: Mimi being pushed on her rolling throne) and is so used to being in the sitting position that she can sit on air. Mimi IS Magic. She can sing without opening her mouth, and she can sit without the help of a chair. Chairs are officially over!

Mashable pointed me toward a video on Twitter of Mimi holding court around her lambs at a show last week. And while signing autographs on her lap for them, she sat on a chair that wasn’t there. Everything is Mimi’s throne, even the air. And women everywhere are probably pfft-ing at this shit, because they’ve almost done this exact position while squat pissing in a bush on the side of a freeway during a road trip.

Someone on Twitter, who obviously has her PhD in TheHeelSit, explained that Mimi’s magical sit move didn’t happen because of magic. It happened because of science (and the layers of Spanx she probably had surgically attached to her body):

Whatever the reason is, the outcome is the same. Mimi’s boy toy Bryan Tanaka is totally getting his allowance cut for the next couple of weeks. Bryan is supposed to be waiting in the wings watching for his mistress to start straining her legs to sit, and as soon as she does, he’s supposed to make like a stool by getting on all fours behind her. But he didn’t! He’s so in trouble. You had one job, Bryan! No, I think that’s literally his one and only job.

Pic: @MariahCareyITA

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Open Post: Hosted By Brit Brit Chipmunk-Yodeling Out “Can’t Help Falling In Love” 

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When I went to the movies yesterday, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos nachos were discounted and that could mean only one of two things: 1. That shit wasn’t selling and they needed to move bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos to make way for real gourmet treats like hot dog bites. Or 2. They were celebrating the 36th anniversary of the birth of Our Lady of Cheetos. The reason is probably #1, but I’m choosing to believe it’s #2.

Britney Spears turned 36 yesterday, and being the generous saint she is, she gave her fans and the world a gift. She gave us the rare and hardly heard gift of her live singing voice. Mark December 2, 2017, as the day that Lucifer and his minions were treated for hymopthemia after hell froze over when a live musical noted floated out of Brit Brit’s mouth.

After sharing the cupcakes, ripped-off rose petals and thirty millions candles that her muscled-up leased piece Sam Asghari got her, Brit posted a video on Instagram of her serenading her fans with Can’t Help Falling In Love while someone with an iPhone circled around her ass. Brit also filled ear holes with her Chipettes vocals as a response to Madge doing an acoustic cover of Toxic for World AIDS Day (????????????).

If you’ve ever wanted to know what it would sound like if a chipmunk on helium did a Shakira impersonation while riding in the back of a pick-up truck speeding down a bumpy road, here you go:

Pop Crave says that video was sped up. They posted the slowed down version:

Celine Dion and Adele should thank Brit Brit for showing them what flawless technique really is. They can thank her in person when they take her order at Starbucks. They’re both going to need new jobs since the real GREATEST SINGUH IN DUH WORLD just put them out of one.

Pic: Instagram

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Open Post: Hosted By Lucas, The World’s First “Cute” Spider

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Bored Panda has introduced the world to the work of animator Joshua Slice. He put together this short clip of a “cute” spider named Lucas. (That’s also the name of Joshua’s nephew who did the voice acting.) Slice is obviously talented, cuz’ this is Pixar-level work. But this jury’s still out on “cute.

“This is an animation test of a character I’ve been working on,” Slice writes. “I’m responsible for the design, modeling, rigging, animation, lighting, and rendering.”

Yeah, well, it’s still an arachnid. And the only thing scarier than an arachnid is a reptile. Let’s test for “cute.” If you woke up in bed to find Lucas crawling up your chest towards your face, would you go “dawww” and pet it? Or would you scream, throw the covers off (hoping it died of suffocation in your bedspread), and call 911? The latter, right? And you “dawww” people, don’t give me the “but they eat other bugs” riff. There are few things more terrifying than realizing that you’re sharing the shower with a GIANT daddy longlegs. Revulsion. Ick. Creep. NO.

Pic: Air.tv (via Bored Panda)

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