Booksmart: Top 5 Comedy of The Decade… Yup

Okay, so it’s Thursday and I’ve been off the blogwagon for a few days. In other words, Memorial Day took it’s toll and I spent the entire 3-day stint thanking people for their service, especially the good men and women at Bud Light who graciously sponsored my mercurial endeavors over the weekend.

That said, I’m back with another movie review. On Tuesday morning, I had every intention of seeing Aladdin. It’s easily the biggest draw in theaters right now, but to be honest, I couldn’t have been less pumped. These new live action Disney remakes are solid, but that’s pretty much where they end. Dumbo and Beauty and the Beast were serviceable, but that’s part of the problem. They’re cookie cutter safe, to the point where I feel they’re exclusively intended for parents who want to introduce their children to what they grew up with.

Luckily, when I surveyed my local cinema’s website, I noticed some movie called Booksmart playing around the same time. Following a quick Google search—compounded by a 97% score on Rotten Tomatoes—I decided to jump on the opportunity to bail on 2 hours of Middle Easterns surfing rugs in favor of yet another coming of age high school comedy.

Booksmart follows the story of two academic overachievers who, after realizing they may have wasted their high school experience, decide to cram 4 years of fun into one night (basically stole that synopsis from IMDB).

So yeah, I know what you’re thinking: “I’ve seen this movie 1,000 times before.” And you’re right, but only partially. Why? Because this is the same movie you’ve seen 1,000 times, but done differently.

For those keeping score, I fucking LOVE coming of age films. Lady Bird was the best movie of 2017 and I’ll have passionate sex with anyone who argues otherwise. It was just an all around excellent film that shares quite a number of parallels with Booksmart. Most notably, Beanie Feldstein (who compliments Saoirse Ronan in Lady Bird) was fucking fantastic and I guess I’ll start there…

The most difficult task when attempting a coming of age movie is typically casting. It’s tough to find kids with chops but that’s probably the strongest aspect of Booksmart. As I mentioned, Beanie Feldstein was remarkable but the chemistry between her and Kaitlyn Dever was what ultimately drove the film. Aside from that, I couldn’t help but be blown away by the entire cast. Strong performances all around from a collection of unknowns and I’m sure it won’t be the last we hear from them. Mark my words: In 10 years or so, this is going to be one of those Freaks and Geeks or Arrested Development-type productions you watch and go “Holy shit, they’re in this too?”

Outside of that, I thought Olivia Wilde’s directing is what really gave Booksmart its fast-paced, youthful charm. Without giving much away, there’s a one-take shot during the climax of the film, as well as an underwater scene that looked absolutely fantastic. Not to mention, the soundtrack bumps and gives the movie the feel of a 2-hour music video.

Not to mention (X2), it’s REALLY fucking funny. One of the smartest comedies I’ve seen in a long time, which brings me to my next point…

I have a axe to grind with the masses right now. I did some research following my screening and I guess the studio took a gamble with this film to the tune of a widespread release and it’s getting absolutely HANDLED at the box office. And yeah, that fucking bothers me.

Everyone and their mother loves to complain how Hollywood lacks originality. Everyone loves to complain how everything released in theaters these days is either a sequel, prequel, spinoff, or reboot. Well you want to know why? Because any time Hollywood puts out anything with even the slightest sense of originality or genuine heart, NOBODY FUCKING SEES IT.

Point Blank: This movie deserves better. It’s arguably the best coming of age pure comedy since Superbad, and I would go as far as to say it’s a top 5 pure comedy of the last decade with The Other Guys, Bridesmaids, and both Jump Streets. Go see it for God’s sake…

Here’s the first 6 minutes…

Final Score: 9.3 Boats out of 10

– Joey Boats (@joey_boats)

2019-2020 Scores

Fighting With My Family: 9.0
Captain Marvel: 6.4
How To Train Your Dragon 3: 8.8
US: 8.4
Dumbo: 4.3
Shazam!: 8.3.
Avengers Endgame: 9.6
Detective Pikachu: 5.7

Is Emily Ratajkowski A Hero…?

Here’s the deal: I tried my best to get into politics. I scratched and clawed my way through news articles, television/radio broadcasts, and books for nearly a year to refine my political acumen and I finally gave up.

Why? Because people are fucking stupid. Nobody does research anymore. They fuel their confirmation bias by aligning themselves to a set of preestablished beliefs manufactured by whatever media outlet they subscribe to has elected to spew.

Why? Because people are fucking stupid.

So yeah, my buddy commented in our group chat about the abortion situation in Alabama/the Bahhhble Belt yesterday and I had no fucking clue what he was talking about (as I said, I’ve quarantined myself from the depths of divisive, sociopolitical discourse because people are fucking stupid).

For those keeping score, I won’t be narcissistically vomiting my take on the abortion issue here. I was given strict guidelines from CEO Joe regarding what I can/can’t blog about and—although I’m a God damn genius and always 100% right—politics was on that list. Also, I’m not a self righteous dickhead who thinks everyone needs to hear my opinion exclusively because I have Wifi access (I actually am though).

What I will talk about, however, is what I saw when I finally researched the situation on Google…

Instead of the top article concerning the facts of the actual story, the top article concerned Instagram model/social activist/human female, Emily Ratajkowski, posing nude in protest of the abortion bill passing.

For the record, I had no idea who this chick was but I guess she DOMINATES Instagram. I don’t know dude, I guess she’s hot. Not my type—meaning she’s above a 7—but to his their own…

Anyway, the real reason I bring that up is because it was probably the most prepostorous, self serving move of all time. So diabolical that I was given no other option but to respect it.

I mean, Emily Ratajkggjdu basically hit social justice warrior bingo: First, her caption demonized white males; second, it “empowered” a particular subdemographic; and third, she did nothing at all that could be considered governmentally constructive. It was just a master class in social media’ing.

Not to mention, she showed her tits, which since has inspired MILLIONS of likeminded progressives to like her photo and follow her page.

While the profoundly immoral sit idle as these injustices occur, it’s just refreshing to see there are still people out there who aren’t afraid to stand up for what’s right and actually do something.

Not all heroes wear capes; some wear nothing at all…

I Absolutely Hate The Sprint Guy…

Okay, so I’ve only blogged maybe 2-3 times in the last couple weeks and the reason is pretty simple: I’ve just been so preoccupied with snorting preworkout and rawdogging self conscious, morally reprehensible twenty-somethings who frequent the dive bars around Boston. Throughout the last fortnight, I’ve added 2-3 notches onto the old belt. In other words, I’ll be the one claiming the Iron Throne of dumpster fire one night stands by the time Summer kicks into gear.

Disclaimer: The above paragraph was a venture into frivolity. None of what I mentioned was factually accurate. I actually very rarely indulge in sexual intercourse. Joke’s on you guys.

Anyway, I recently downloaded a Hulu account exclusively for South Park and Rick and Morty (the latter of which just announced their new season will premier in November, by the way). Upon subscribing, I was offered the $12/month subscription with zero ads, or the $6/month subscription, which features ads.

Obviously I went with the cheaper solution because I’m not some degenerate, soft serve millenial cuck incapable of entertaining anything if it arrives without the prospect of instant gratification. I don’t enjoy things unless there’s a little pushback involved. I feed on adversity of sport. I embrace the grind…

So yeah, I went with the ads option and one of the most prominent advertising campaigns on the app is the one from Sprint that features Paul Marcarelli—the “Can you hear me now” guy.

For those who’ve spent the last decade subsisting on powdered fruit in some bomb shelter, Marcarelli was formerly the spokseperson for Verizon. Evidently, they terminated their contract with him a little while back and Marcarelli immediately went to Sprint because Marcarelli is a steaming pile of perfidious dog shit.

Now, this move has bothered me for quite some time. Everytime I see that smug bastard’s face, steam flows from my ears like the waters of the Colorado River. I become so enraged that I need to crank one off to one of my favorite Vietnamese midget porn scenes just to regain some sense of tranquility.

Whenever I’ve brought this up, people always say stuff like “Well, what do you want him to do?” or “Verizon let him go; he should be free to do what he wants.”

And you know what? I actually don’t disagree. However, that doesn’t mean this meatball-eating son of a bitch is off the hook. What he did was trecherous. Just an all time dirtbag move and if you say otherwise, you’re getting judged for it.

I mean, you don’t cross picket lines in any business. This clown sat on fat checks for YEARS. And to do what? Aimlessly meander through exotic landscapes and utter a SINGLE line of dialogue? Talk about a cakewalk of a career.

Verizon literally CARRIED this fucking moron to sociocultural relevancy. Everything this guy has in his life, he owes to Verizon. They stuffed millions and millions of dollar’s down his throat for over a decade. And what does he do to repay them? Take the first fucking offer from a direct competitor. That’s an all-time low move and I refuse to respect it.

So yeah, fuck Paul Marcarelli…

Disclaimer (X2): This blog sucked. As I said, I’m a little rusty. Don’t let me get loose again though. Expect heaters in a couple days. I low-key thoroughly enjoyed a veggie burger the other day.

Fried-ay: Keymakers, Detective Pikachu, and Highway Etiquette…

Guys, guys, GUYS! It’s Friday, which means it’s Fried-ay, which means it’s time for me to once again dominate the Internet for however long it takes you to read this blog.

For those unfamiliar, Fried-ay is a weekly blog I write on Fridays where I explain what Fried-ay is. So yeah, Fried-ay is everything, but it’s also nothing. It’s love, it’s life, it’s liberty, and it’s the pursuit of degeneracy. Let’s get into it…

I once nicknamed this handicapped Asian kid in college “The Keymaker,” in reference to that pint-sized Asian dude from the second Matrix movie. I don’t know why I’m starting Fried-ay off with that but screw it—I was driving to work, remembered it, laughed, and thought to share it.

Speaking of funky Asians, I planned on seeing Detective Pikachu last night but elected to go later tonight instead.

For the record, I used to be a HUGE Pokémon guy back in the day. I could probably still name at least 90% of the original 150 with a gun to my head. That said, it’s pretty safe to say I was pumped when I heard they were making a movie; however, there are two problems at play here.

The first problem is that, although I’ll take any live-action Pokémon movie at this point, the one they decided to make is based on some one-off handheld game I guess. As I said, I’ll take a movie based on “Detective Pikachu,” but I don’t think I’m alone when I claim I want a full-fledged, 2-hour masterpiece on the original narrative of Ash, Misty, Brock, and Team Rocket.

The second problem is that I’m on the back nine of my twenties and there are some things I need to be careful about. In other words, I’m reaching that “potential pedophile” age where anyone with a mustache is considered suspect.

Long story short, I have a mustache right now and heading by myself to a movie intended for 8-year-olds to satisfy some obscure, nostalgic thirst can get dicey. For this reason, I offered to bring my little cousin to see it because he loves Pokémon. Shortly after, I learned he already had plans to see the movie tomorrow with his shithead friends. Fucking clown. Looks like I’m shaving and attending the post-9:30 showing…

I’m not someone with road rage but FUCK reckless people on the highway. Every morning, I set my alarm for two hours before work so I have adequate time to get to work at a leisurely pace. For some reason, other people don’t do this.

For the record, if the speed limit is 65 mph and I’m going 80 mph, don’t ride my God damn ass. Why? Because, I don’t know, I’m going fucking 80 mph! Not to sound cocky, but my life is worth a tad more than you getting to work on time.

And it’s always the same guy who’s on my tail. It’s the guy who drives the F-250 with energy drink/anti-welfare decals on the back of his truck because obviously everyone needs to know this guy drinks caffeine and holds a reliable job.

– Joey Boats (@joey_boats)

Good Riddance…

Alright guys, I’m going to keep this short and concise. It’s currently 4:34 AM and I’m slouched in the driver seat of my car, blasting Jefferson Starship in a vacant, dimly-lit parking lot. Even worse, the Celtics have been eliminated from the playoffs yet again.

For the record, getting eliminated from the playoffs is nothing to be ashamed of; however, the manner in which you get eliminated can be. And yeah, the Celtics got scrubbed in a BIG way.

I don’t want to brag and claim I was right. I don’t want to post the link to a blog I wrote midseason about how I was “done” with Kyrie. I don’t want to talk about how I got dragged through the mud on Twitter by a bunch of fucking morons about how I’m ungrateful, so I won’t; instead, I’ll talk about what it means to be ungrateful…

Listen, I understand Boston sports fans are spoiled. I realize that, whenever we complain about our sports teams, every other fanbase gives us that same look your girlfriend gives you when you admit you thought Hocus Pocus was a steaming pile of shit movie. That’s fine…

However, is it too much to ask your franchise player to commit to the franchise?

This entire season has been a rollercoaster of bullshit. I’ve had to watch as the Eastern Conference preseason favorite spiraled into a 4-seed, only to get their doors blown off 9 games earlier than they did last year without their guns on the floor.

So yeah, Kyrie’s done, and I don’t think it’s even his decision anymore. I don’t want to sound like I’m deepthroating the Boston sports’ fanbase right now, but one of the things that comes with watching so much success is knowing what it takes to repeat it.

Boston fans can generally sniff out when something isn’t working before it fails. When a guy gives off the impression he doesn’t want to be here, we don’t fluff his pillow and upgrade his accomodations; we drive him out. It’s sort of this whole “If you don’t like us than fuck you” narrative.

And BELIEVE ME, if you want to see what Boston does best today, all you need to do is turn that radio dial to the sports talk broadcast of your preference, because you’re guaranteed to hear an absolute FLOOD of “fuck kyrie” calls from the likes of Sully in Charlestown or Mark in Dorchester.

In closing, people will remember this team for what it was: an unbelievable collection of talent and depth—spearheaded by some narcissistic punk—who just couldn’t take a punch when it mattered. Giannis dragged his nuts all over this team throughout the series and I can definitively claim the 2019 Celtics are the most unlikeable Boston Sports team since the “Chicken and Beer” Red Sox back in 2011. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out…

P.S. Hayward BLOWS too. He’s had two full years to recover from that leg injury. The only thing preventing him from being the ass of this article is the fact Kyrie was such a flaming douche this year.

– Joey Boats (@joey_boats)

The Met Gala’s Such A Joke…

Before I go any further, I would just like to clarify a few things: I’m an idiot. I don’t do research. I watch sports and eat bologna. I’m not necessarily someone you’d see on the street and think, “Wow, that guy must have some incredibly eclectic insight on the Syrian Refugee Crisis.”

That said, I’m throwing my hat in the ring. Today is the day I begin to overhaul my lifestyle and diversify my cultural palette. And I’m starting with this Met Gala.

They hold this thing every year and for the three days that follow, all I see are articles with people jacking each other off over how good/amazing/progressive someone looked. It’s preposterous. It’s basically just a comic book convention flooded with narcissistic, over-compensated, “socially conscious” celebrities who admonish capitalistic greed while sporting six-figure outfits. It’s just a revolving Macy’s door of hypocrisy.

Not to mention, “fashion” people are the fucking worst. Just this exclusive, out-of-touch demographic of our population that have appointed themselves as the authority on what people should wear.

This is why I hate fashion. It’s irrefutably subjective but we have these insufferable blowhards who crawl out of the woodwork, convinced their opinion on what Beyonce wore while smashing bacon-wrapped scallops in some glorified Best Western conference ballroom actually achieves something.

Another reason I hate fashion is because, unlike most, I’m actually somewhat of a fashion icon, myself. In fact, I AM fashion. People can read all the reviews or commentary they want, but at the end of the day, I dictate it. What I’m wearing right now is basically next month’s issue of Vogue.

In other words, people often say that the “clothes make the man” but I disagree; clothes defer to me to make them look great. I’m attending a wedding this Winter and everyone involved is compromising their future mortgage so they can buy a nice suit. I could roll into Savers with $20 and leave looking like George Clooney in Ocean’s 11.

Also, while I’m on the topic of fashion, fuck anyone over the last decade that have called me out for wearing cargo shorts. You clowns can kick rocks…

Cargo shorts are an American staple and these so-called “experts” are out here claiming I’m a loser for cycling pairs in the summer. These are the same morons that will blog about how “stunning” Katy Perry looked at the Met Gala. Bro, she wore fucking wings last year. FUCKING Wings.

In other words, she went to her designer the night before and had to ask him/her how long it would take to tailor her a pair of wings… Wings dude… What a douchebag… Fucking wings…

P.S. Brady looked stunning…

– Joey Boats (@joey_boats)