Tag Archives: urban

From Brit to Black: Death at a Funeral

Way back in 2007, I saw a Frank Oz film called Death at a Funeral, so imagine my surprise when I discovered a trailer for a new Neil LaBute film called Death at a Funeral. Should the “too soon” rule usually applied to tragic events also be applicable for remakes?

The original Death at a Funeral was a predominantly British comedy with a few American actors scattered in—but it was one thing that the new Death at a Funeral is not: a white movie.

Before watching the trailer, I actually expected this new Chris Rock vehicle to be a black comedy that just happened to have the same name. It wasn’t long before I discovered that not only is it an almost word-for-word remake, but they even used the same dwarf actor!

There are not many little people in Hollywood who can pull off a serious role while being a noticeably distracting as a dwarf. Verne Troyer, for example, will always be a fucking joke.

This film’s two-time dwarf actor (or maybe he’s a midget) is Peter Dinklage—he’s even got a funny little name to match.

While it is unquestionably shitty to remake a film within 3 years, it is—in this case—somewhat understandable. First, they are targeting the film toward a different (and probably much broader) audience. Second, it looks like a pretty funny movie. And third, nobody saw the original.

This movie is going to make so much money, Frank Oz will shit anger.

If I hadn’t seen the first version, I may be tempted to check out this new endeavor. Okay, that’s probably not true, but I may get it on Netflix when it comes out on DVD.

Alex G/

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Fuck You: Confessions of an Urban Fairy

fairyYeah, I’m a fuckin’ fairy! Fuck you! I ain’t no pussy-ass pixie-throwin’ tinkerballs, motherfucker. I mean, yeah, I do throw pixie dust, but that’s only, like, eight-and-a-motherfuckin-half-percent of my fuckin’ job.

All you cunts wanna hate on me, but I don’t fuckin’ give a shit. I ain’t no tooth-stealin’ pillow pusher. I may be a fairy but I ain’t no fuckin’ fag.

You wanna judge me?! You wanna bring yo punk ass down to my hood and fuck with this? Bring it, boyz n’ girlz. I don’t give a fuck how old you are, I’ll run ya’ll through with my motherfuckin magic wand.

No, I don’t actually have a magic wand, bitch. You think I’d be caught dead wit some sparklin’ fuckin’ stick with a star at the end? That shit’s gay. Not just gay, but retarded, too!

Lemma axe you summit; you think all us fairies are the same? You take your fuckin’ suburban or forest fairy and you bring ‘em down to my area. Then we’ll see! Oh, we’ll see! Ain’t gonna do you no good to turn into a fuckin’ tree when there ain’t no trees around town, motherfucker!

Naw, I’m just like all the rest of you douchebags!

I watch my pornos.

I lubricate my guns*.

(*by which I mean my muscles.) Flex ‘em.

I water my Pom-Pom Garden. Them berries are fuckin’ sweet!

I watch my Jon & Kate Plus Eight, so fuckin’ what?

I flip off passing cars while I’m parked outside the SuperFresh.

I’d tell you more but I don’t want you bitches all up in my bizness. Plus, if you knew everything about me, there’d be no mystery…no magic in the world!

Don’t you motherfucking ruin the fuckin’ magic! I swear to Christ!

–a Fairy

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An Open Letter to Art School Kids

Dear Pretentious Indie Art School Douche,

michelle I just needed to tell you a few things about how the world works.  Now you may think you have an “artistic vision” or are “special” in some way.  You do not and are not.  I understand as an eighteen year old you had dreams to become an artist actor filmmaker.  I know that choosing to go to art school was your best plan of realizing those dreams.  However, you need to realize one thing:  the world does not care.  It does not care about you, your crappy film painting acting abilities, or the fact that you took $40,000 of mommy and daddy’s money to go “slum-it” in an urban setting so that you could say you suffered in some way.

When you graduate you will think that you are the one person in your whole school that will make it big.  You will not.  You will probably end up filming people’s weddings drawing caricatures on the boardwalk acting in low grade J.G. Wentworth commercials being a cashier at a Target.  You think you are smarter, more urban, genuinely cooler than most of the population.  Most of the population does not have to work crappy part-time jobs to support their dying dreams that aren’t worth the $4 it took to make them.  Sure, there are drug addicts/indie gods that were successful at times.  You are not the next Harmony Korrine.  If you start taking drugs you will not make the next KIDS. You will probably turn out as one of the characters in KIDS.

It’s time to put away the ripped up hoodie studded belt thick black frame glasses skinny jeans and get a real life.  Now you don’t have to be a slave to the corporate gods after doing this.  There are plenty of jobs that aren’t soul crushing out there for you.  You just have to give up your fantasies that you are in fact better than everyone else in the world.  From there maybe take some more of your parent’s money and go back to school for something useful.

I hear anything in the business field can work out.  Maybe health care.  Or even a vet.  All those years as an animal lover vegetarian vegan really can pay off!  Anyway, you really need a reality check.  Your inflated ego and shitty art projects are really getting the rest of the world down.  And remember:  once you die no one will know who you were so quit trying to make a film painting sculpture difference.

Yours Truly,

The World

(–Michelle)

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