This is not the article I wanted to write.  When I set out to write a review of MTV’s controversial new reality show Jersey Shore, I had a pretty good idea of how it was going to go.  I was going to write my standard (dare I say “trademark?”), long-winded rant which would combine obscure references, big words, and level one swears to express my deep displeasure with the show’s public displays of douchebaggery.

It seemed pretty straightforward. The show is a vocal proponent of self-ascribed nicknames, the state of New Jersey, and Italian-Americans engaging in non-mob activities. I had (and have) no interest in any of those things, and was confident in my ability to heap scorn on Jersey Whore.

But that was before I watched my first episode.

Fifteen minutes into “researching” my article, a strange thing began happening to me.  It’s the same thing that happened to John Smith in Pocahontas.  And the main character in Avatar.  And Secretary of State Hillary Clinton.  I fell in love with that which I set out to destroy. Read the full story

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With so much reveling, carousing, and dri – uhh…bowl game watching going on in recent days, it’s been tough to find time to sate TTM’s insatiable hunger for fresh content.  Fortunately, my 12 year-old cousin is not old enough to dri – umm…doesn’t like football, and therefore had plenty of free time.  While on Christmas Break, Benjamin’s class was asked to write a report on a movie that he saw or a book that he read.  Like every other 5th grader this side of Pyongyang, Benjamin saw “Avatar”.  He has graciously submitted his “movie report” for publication on this site.

SPOILER ALERT: He pretty much gives away the whole movie.

BY: Benjamin Woodyard

I want to tell you guys out there about the movie Avatar. It’s so cool.  The dragons are so cool.  The floating mountains are so cool.  The main guy (I forget his name) is so cool.  I think pretty much everyone thinks it’s probably the best movie of all time.  Some people might say Harry Potter or Monsters Inc. or something else is better, but that’s probably because they saw it in a normal theater instead of in 3-D which is how I saw it.

Avatar is about this soldier who’s in a wheelchair for some reason we don’t know about.  (Probably from fighting the terrorists in Detroit.)  He goes in a space ship to another planet which is kind of like Earth except cooler because they have aliens and dragons.

When he gets to the new planet he meets this army general who talks about how everyone wants to kill the people but how the people are going to kill everyone first because the people have guns and no one else does.  I think.  It was kind of confusing.  But then the wheelchair guy meets the mean lady from Holes.  She’s a scientist or something.  She’s mean to him at first because he’s in a wheelchair.  My mom says this is called “disc-information.” Read the full story

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By: Dave McCloskey

Nickelback kicked off its North American tour in front of a capacity crowd at the Staples Center in Los Angeles on Friday night, its first of three shows in southern California.  However, what should have been a classic, mind-bending rock performance in the typical Nickelback style is being heralded by many as a total flop.  The reason?  Lead singer Chad Kroeger.

“I show up ready to grind on my girlfriend to some kickin Canadian rock n’ roll, and that jag Chad Kroeger tees off and kills a classic Nickelback song,” reported Dane Strump of Riverside, “That guy gives Nickelback a bad name.”

Sources report that Kroeger went on to ruin at least 25 more amazing songs during the show, including “How You Remind Me,” “If Today Was Your Last Day,” and “Photograph.”

“I’ve got my cell phone in the air, my eyes are closed, and I’m rocking out to “Rockstar” by the greatest band of all time, and then all of a sudden, this raspy voice starts bellowing and I’m like, dammit, this song is completely toasted,” noted Ben Howell, a police investigator.

Kroeger (front and center) ruins another Nickelback publicity photo.

Read the full story

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Ah, FoxNews. I’m a conservative. I really am. And an evangelical. You’d think I’d have Glenn Beck on my TiVo, a bookshelf filled with volumes with O’Reilly on their spines, and “No F’ing Spin Zone” on my bumper. You’d be wrong, my friends.

It’s not because I wholeheartedly hate or vehemently disagree with everything FN does. On the contrary, their coverage of the ACORN debacle was significantly more comprehensive than any of the other networks commonly labeled as “liberal.” A government funded agency is advising people how to start a brothel, do it under the government’s radar, and maybe even get it funded by the government? And they’re doing it on tape? In multiple cities? How the hell is that a partisan issue? Kudos to FN for blowing the lid off of that one.

Then there are front page headlines like this one. Thanks to Kent for sending me this screenshot he took from his work computer.

Dammit, FN. Just dammit. This is why people think we’re dumb. It’s an article about how the USDA has confirmed that a pig has swineflu. That’s a front page headline on their website. How stupid this is, let me count the ways. Read the full story

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By: Brother Bear

“One of the year’s best.” – Entertainment Weekly

“The hipster equivalent of Star Wars.” – NPR’s, All Things Considered

“Briefly made life worth living.” – Roger Ebert

“Mostly good, kinda scary…[annoying, non-sensical ramblings]” – Sister Bear

Blah, blah, blah.  Can we all just get off the “Where the Wild Things Are” superlative-train already?  I get it.  Spike Jonze is a genius.  Special effects are fun.  “Where the Wild Things Are” touched us all in special places when we were kids.  Whatever.   I just can’t figure out why this movie is getting the kind of media rub-down usually reserved for Bear-ack Obama and anything Tina Fey does.  Sure, wolf costumes can be fun, and I can appreciate a wild rumpus as much as the next San Franciscan on Halloween, but is that all we expect from our children’s literature these days?  Where’s the life lesson?  Where’s the moral?  Where’s the takeaway that is both universal and specific?

Am I alone in this?  Wouldn’t you rather see a movie that was both instructive and entertaining?  Where are the Wild Things?  Who cares!  What have the Wild Things learned about sharing?  That’s what I want to know.  Escapism and imagination are all well and good, but what can Max and the Wild Things tell me about talking to strangers, having bad dreams, or dealing with bullies?  I know that may be a bit much to ask from a ten-sentence book written by a hippie who was subsisting on a steady diet of humanism and bong resin, but I don’t think it’s too much to ask from a feature-length film in the Post-Pixar Age. Read the full story

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What follows is a review of the cabaret show which has been advertised right next to this sentence for the past several weeks.  Conor went to the show last week and wanted to write a review.  Unfortunately, between working, long- distance relationshiping, and watching Olsen Twin movies his plate is pretty full.  Not wanting to let a bit of culture go unreviewed, I have decided to write the review for him.  Since I have not actually seen the show, I will base my analysis off things Conor has told me about it.  Since he passed out sometime during Act 5, I will be supplementing his report with what I imagine it was like.  Conor has agreed to go behind and fact check.  True statements will be denoted with an asterisk.  Enjoy.

* = true statement

“Hot Beans Delivers” is a cabaret show.* Not to be confused with a cabernet sauvignon which I’m told is something else entirely.* This conflation of terms caused me a good deal of confusion as I could not figure out why Roger Ebert would call a glass of fermented grape juice, “the funniest show I’ve seen since Brokeback Mountain and not nearly as gay.”  Fortuitously, the buxom bar wench at Davenport’s Piano Bar and Cabaret was kind enough to inform me that what I was about to witness was actually a form of entertainment featuring comedy, song, dance, and theater, distinguished mainly by the performance venue.* Read the full story

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By: Steven Etheridge

Allow me to inaugurate this audit with a scathing declaration: Pocahontas is the worst movie of all time. The colors were too gay, the music too sprightly—had it lasted a minute longer, I would’ve crippled myself like my dear son Franklin. It was an abomination, a calamity. Utterly treasonous!

Led by the honorable Governor Ratcliffe, the film commences as a merry crew of settlers sail toward the hallowed American shores. They’ve come to claim the land the Lord hath rightly prescribed them. Within their ranks, though, is the vile pervert John Smith, whose eyes declare his intent to have his way with a savage. His villainous appearance, we find, precedes his execrable actions.

Danger awaits the settlers in the Virginian woodlands, where a bloodthirsty pack of savages seems eager to slaughter them and use their bones to make pan flutes. With souls composed of noxious gasses, one assumes the savages are without mercy. Read the full story

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Since my sophomore year in high school I – like most Americans – have maintained a recreational affinity for the band Coldplay.  I own all their CDs, I know every word to every one of their songs, I have a Chris Martin shaped body pillow.  Yet they are far from my favorite band.  They probably would not even break the top ten (not since Amy Winehouse arrived on the scene anyway).  Coldplay is the McDonalds of rock bands.  I go to McDonalds more frequently than any other two restaurants combined, but in no way is it my favorite place to eat.  It’s just…easy to say yes to.  McDonalds makes food in the same way Coldplay makes music: decent, consistent, and uncomplicated.  They have found the lowest common denominators in their industries and – in doing so – have ensnared most of us in their grip.

It was this generous and uncritical affection for Coldplay that led me to drop $60 for a concert ticket last Thursday.  Having seen them live, I can now add another adjective to my description of their music: terrifying.  Put simply, Coldplay is too good at what they do.  Had scientists not spent the 20^th century coming up with cool ways for people to kill each other and instead focused their energies on creating the perfect stadium rock experience, they would have created a Coldplay concert.  Coldplay’s music may be like McDonalds’ food, but their live performances are more like the Stepford Wives.  Beautiful, superficial, hypnotic, probably evil. Read the full story

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By: Harry Potter

Those of you out there who have spent over 500 weeks on the New York Times Bestsellers List will know the…oh wait…that’s right.  I’m the only one who’s done that.  I guess I’ll  just tell you.  Once you’ve been the king, it is difficult to bear an effeminate and unworthy successor to your throne.  That is why – after spending a decade being translated into 67 languages, selling 400 million books, being optioned for film, and inspiring several pornographic knockoffs – I have returned to cast a spell of derision over the literary skid mark that is Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series.

I almost feel silly dignifying the likes of Edward Cullen with my attention.  In the hierarchy of the magical realm, vampires rank just above flobberworms and just below merpeople.  They’re the kind of people you might sell some old jewelry to, but you wouldn’t want to sit next to them at the movies.  How Bella Swan managed to fall in love with one is beyond me.  Perhaps she was raised in a swamp by a family of manticores!  Hahaha!  I jest.  This is impossible of course, manticores eat their young. Read the full story

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Let me begin by stating that I have a liberal arts college education. As any liberal arts student will tell you, they force you to learn liberal things, like foreign languages and thick books written by foreigners. So I know fancy words about literature and art. I’ve watched old black and white French films and, better yet, I’ve enjoyed them. I’ve even seen contemporary dance productions. Sure, I might have said “what the hell was that supposed to mean?” afterward, but all that matters is that I was there. That being said, I enjoy some heady movies, i.e. the kind that critics actually praise. I’m not trying to laud myself or anything (although I’m not above that, because I’m awesome) but I needed to lay this foundation before I got into the actual subject of this article.

And that subject is Michael Bay movies. Not his movies, actually; his critics. I’m not sure if you’ve ever read a review of ANY of Michael Bay’s movies, but they all generally criticize him for the same things: the plot is horrible, the characters are flat, the pacing is ridiculous, the dialogue is unrealistic, racial stereotypes, blah blah blah, etcetera etcetera etcetera. We get it film critics, Michael Bay doesn’t make the “deepest” or the most “meaningful” movies. Read the full story

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