#drawing guy and kyle is addicting as hell

[bearforceone3]

finished a kinda-old doodle of guy and kyle i had sitting around

[thisaintascenereviews]

Kyle Gordon - Kyle Gordon Is Great

Comedy music is often a fickle beast, because either it’s really good or really bad, it’s never in between. That’s because comedy is subjective, but so is music, and you might find the jokes funny but the music bad, or vice versa. Comedy music has the problem of not being both of those things, and that’s sort of how I feel about this debut album from comedian Kyle Gordon, entitled Kyle Gordon Is Great, which is a funny title, but you might know him from TikTok. He started out by making funny videos but he’s blown up over the last couple of years, especially when he began releasing parody songs of different genres. You might have heard “Planet Of The Bass” that’s a parody of 90s Eurodance songs, but he released an album with seven more songs of different genres. I’ve heard a few of them, including a pop-country song that parodies 90s and 00s female empowerment anthems from that time, a 00s pop-punk song that parodies how melodramatic the genre is, or a folk / outlaw country song that parodies how drug addicted the genre can be, and I was curious when I saw a full album, but I was apprehensive.

I’m not super crazy about comedy music, because even if the music itself is really good, the jokes themselves are the main draw and if the jokes don’t have lasting value, there isn’t much to go back to. Unfortunately, Kyle Gordon’s debut album is kind of like that, but it has its moments of brilliance. This album is either really funny and clever or really stupid and braindead, and it’s weird how this album jumps from one extreme to the other at the drop of a hat. One thing that’s really annoying about this album right off the bat is how this is 15 songs long, but it’s only 27 minutes. Why is that? Well, that’s because half of this album (or seemingly so) are just fake radio station DJ spots that introduce the following song of a different genre, which would be fine if there were multiple songs that fit under that genre, but each one has only a single song. It gets old hearing a fake radio spot after each song, and they’re not even funny, although Gordon does what he thinks is a funny voice on each one. The DJ spots would be fine if they weren’t every other song, but it just feels like unnecessary fluff, especially when it doesn’t work. Hell, he could have used a framing device for the whole record, and use the radio DJs at a few point, not after every song.

When it comes to the songs themselves, this album is a lot of fun, and I wanted to start with the songs themselves because they’re actually solid representations of everything he’s parodying. “Planet Of The Bass” is a catchy and bouncy dance / pop tune, whereas “Girls Are The Best” is a great little pop-country song that sounds like Martina McBride circa 2004, and the list goes on. The songs sound like they belong in their respective eras, so I have to give him that.

Where the album goes awry for me are its lyrics, and this is where the album just doesn’t work for me, because a lot of the album’s lyricism just isn’t that funny. All the songs rely on a single joke that pans out for a few minutes. A good example of that is “Girls Are The Best” where Gordon says just that — the joke is that women are better than men, at least in a toxic feminist kind of way, and as the song goes on, Gordon gets angrier and angrier and it’s more exaggerated, but it isn’t any funnier. Every other track does that, too, like a bossa nova song is about how this creepy guy wants to be with the “ugliest girl on the beach,” or the pop-song is just about how much the singer’s life sucks and how melodramatic he is, but it just falls short when you know what the one joke is. The one whose lyrics actually work for me is “Planet Of The Bass,” even though that has one joke, too, and that joke is that the lyrics don’t make any sense. There is also a fake ad for a children’s album that shows up, too, and the clips of songs are pretty funny, because the one joke this song / ad has is that the kids’ songs have bad advice, and what Gordon says is actually quite funny.

Overall, I don’t mind how short this album is, despite how many tracks it has, and a few songs are actually quite humorous. Unfortunately, every song relies on a single joke, and while the jokes (at least for the most part) start off strong, they just revolve around the same joke and it just gets old. The music itself is pretty good, and Gordon has a good voice, but the constant radio spots didn’t work for me. Some of these songs also don’t feel finished, at least compared to others, almost like he wrote this album around a few really solid songs and just quickly wrote the rest. I wish this album was a bit longer, especially having more actual songs, but the songs should also be finished and feel more fleshed out. For a debut, especially comedy music, this isn’t half bad, but hopefully his next record is a little more interesting.

[deathvalleyusa]

oh ho ho ho, after that heated exchange via myspace, we get the aftermath. i love writing arguments. something about ‘em just flows.

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It was just his fucking luck.

Rhett wasn’t exactly keen on basement shows anymore, but the nature of his music necessitated them. It was too crowded. The acoustics were terrible. But most of all, it was a reminder of who he had been. Who he could still be. 

Six months sober, Rhett was watching the drunk crowd with annoyance and longing. The other bands who had played already and were now busy engaging in the festivities. His sponsor would die if he saw the situation he was in. Luckily, his friend and band-mate Christopher had attached himself to Rhett. Made sure no alcohol passed his lips, took him outside when Rhett’s face started to go frazzled. Promised once their set was over, they could leave.

He didn’t want to leave. Rhett wanted to enjoy himself, to mingle and sing along with friend’s bands. Wanted to throw himself around a pit, end up with some bruises. Most of all, he just wanted a few beers.

But it was never just a few beers. It’d stopped being a few beers once he hit twenty. It’d stop being for a good time by the time he hit twenty-two, instead a way to get through the day and stave off shakes. By twenty-three, he had lied and lied, not willing to admit to himself it was his only way to function. Denied the dreaded word ‘addiction’ until he no longer could. And now, he stood in the midst of a bunch of drunken twenty-somethings, wishing he could join them without wasting his hard-earned six-month sobriety chip and falling back into a person he hated to remember.

On top of all this, Candy Hawke was standing by the wall, glaring at him. Just. His. Luck.

After their exchange a mere day ago, emotions were bound to still be running high for the pixie of a woman. Rhett certainly still felt wronged, a little angry. There had never really been a pleasant exchange between the two of them since she showed up in Milwaukee a few years ago. Something about her just rubbed him the wrong way. 

Plastic crunched in his hand, his bottle of soda compressing under his fist as he let out an annoyed sigh. Christopher had turned away, talking to someone from one of the other bands. Great. No one to distract him from the vaporizing glare coming from across the room.

Finally, it just became too much to bear. Eyes kept flitting to the flame of her hair, drawn to the energy the pixie of a woman was giving off. Rhett pushed past the crowd, never once losing his sight on Candy. Being tall at least had that perk. As he stopped in front of her, she didn’t seem surprised in the least that he had caved. Probably had wanted him to.

“What’s your problem?!” he said, voice raised over the noise. 

“My problem is Erin just saw you and Perry and ran out,” Candy answered, obviously rustled. “Rizz went off after her and now my band has to take a later slot.”

“What am I supposed to do about that?” Rhett shot back. “I told you we didn’t say anything.”

“And yet people are still saying you did,” she retorted. “Folks who like both our bands. Just apologize already to Erin.”

“For what?!” Rhett exploded. “Christ, why would I ever say that? Why would Perry?”

“I dunno why Perry would, but you haven’t said one nice thing about my band since we started playing.” Candy took a step closer, drawing herself to her full height. It was almost comical; her five foot frame was dwarfed by his six foot one. “Remember when you told Bill to not bother putting us on the roster for Brady Fest because we were ‘too green’?”

Fuck, he had forgotten about that. It had happened so long ago, he thought maybe she had as well. To be fair, one of their band members had never played live before. The other two had varying experience. And Candy… at that point, no one knew who the hell she was. She had blown in one fall day, with a guitar and a voice like a melodic banshee. 

“That was two years ago,” he said defensively. “I wasn’t in my right mind. Besides, it’s not like you didn’t eventually get on the roster.”

“Yeah, after I had to beg him!” she said, voice growing louder. “If it’s not about our ability to play live, it’s about something else with you. And now the thing with Erin.”

“For the last fucking time,” Rhett groaned, hand dragging over his face, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You know what, Rhett?” Candy continued, the commotion now drawing stares. “You have no excuse anymore for this shit. You stopped drinking, you’re still a huge asshole.”

His stomach dropped. Of course she knew about that. Everyone seemed to know about his sobriety; gossip traveled in their circles faster than a flock of church ladies. He collected himself once again, as much as he could manage. Rhett was not someone who got angry, truly angry, at much, but using something as personal as his failings as ammo was a berserk button. He stepped forward, inky hair sliding off his shoulders to hang over his face like a curtain as he looked down on Candy. She didn’t seem a bit intimidated by him, instead puffing up further.

Like an angry kitten, he thought. It’d be funnier if he wasn’t seeing red right now.

“And what’s yours, Candy?” he yelled. “You’re fucking entitled because you think you’re the next goddamn Hayley Williams or something. Your whole band acts like it. This isn’t the riot grrl era, okay? You aren’t being targeted because you’re almost an all-girl band. Maybe you just fucking suck.”

“Compare me to Hayley Williams one more time, I swear to god—”

“Hey!” A male voice rang out. Kyle, the bassist and other lead singer of Candy’s band, stepped up, putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “What’s going on here?”

“This asswipe is comparing me to Hayley again,” Candy said angrily. “And saying we suck. You know what? Cain Is Able isn’t anything special. What are you bringing to the table, huh? More whiny man pain with already-been-done melodies.”

“You want an apology?” he asked, setting his jaw. “Fine. Sorry you don’t have what it takes to make it in a local scene so you have to make up excuses.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Kyle interjected.

“You know, your band was actually okay until you stepped down,” Candy said, dark eyes glowering at him under the dim light of the basement. “Such a fucking waste.”

“Get fucked,” Rhett shot back as Christopher made his way over. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Christopher said, pulling Rhett back by the shoulders. “Guys, back off. Seriously. I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re gonna get us all kicked out if you don’t stop.”

“Whatever,” Rhett muttered, pushing Christopher off him. “I’m outta here. Come get me when our set starts.”

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TAG LIST: @erinbeatty​ @alias-b​ @lunalove4537​ @redjadequeen​

[vagrantblvrd]

Skies So Blue (1/1)

Summary: There’s always a problem when it comes to the crew.

Always.

Said problems range from minor inconveniences like a diet eCola shortage in the penthouse to life-threatening injuries. (Sometimes one leads to the other because the ones with an addiction to the stuff are certifiable, but that’s another problem altogether.)

Notes: An Anon wanted my thoughts on this GTA V video. :D?

(Read on AO3)

There’s always a problem when it comes to the crew.

Always.

Said problems range from minor inconveniences like a diet eCola shortage in the penthouse to life-threatening injuries. (Sometimes one leads to the other because the ones with an addiction to the stuff are certifiable, but that’s another problem altogether.)

The current problem is that Geoff’s out of town for business and he took both Alfredo and Matt, arguably the last two sane members of the crew left besides Trevor himself. And while Trevor is in charge these days, you wouldn’t notice by the way they act.

(Geoff warned him though, when he and Lindsay handed the reins over. Told him all about how they were horrible human beings and, “God have mercy on your soul, because the bastard sure as hell had none for mine,” and left for what he insisted was a long overdue vacation from the crew. Lindsay had laughed as she patted him on the cheek with a “You poor, stupid bastard,” before going off to rain chaos on the unsuspecting now she was free to do so.)

Geoff is out of town, the crew treats Trevor like a substitute teacher in an 80s/early 90s movie, and to make matters worse? It’s been a while since the crew’s pulled a heist or a job that requires more than the bare minimum from them.

They’re bored.

They’re bored and Trevor’s learned that a bored Fake AH Crew is a dangerous Fake AH Crew because they make their own entertainment.

While some good things have come out of their shenanigans in the past – improved team morale for starters – said shenanigans also draw unwanted attention from local law enforcement that’s no good for future plans they may have.

So.

“You...want me to kidnap you.”

Trevor grins, nice and friendly and holds up the wad of cash he’s offering as payment to a fine young gentleman.

New enough to Los Santos that he hasn’t heard (too much) about the Fakes aside from a few key points. (Big crew, don’t fuck with them or you’ll be sorry, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah.)

Hasn’t heard about their more outrageous exploits or what they like to do to blow off steam for their own enrichment. (Pack of idiots rolling a pumpkin around their enclosure and all.)

Most importantly, he’s just stupid enough, greedy enough, to be blinded to the amount of money Trevor’s offering for an afternoon of driving him around.

“Well I mean,” Trevor says, goes a little singsong. “’Kidnap’ is such an ugly word, you know. All these connotations to it. No, no.”

Goodness no.

“I want you to steal a car for me.”

The guy – Frank? Jimmy? Trevor doesn't remember, and if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t care.

See, Trevor asked around, got a short list of potential candidates for this little task that might need a reminder of how things work in Los Santos. A quick little tutorial for the ones new to town like this fine fellow who’s already ruffled a few feathers.

“...The car you will be in,” Lyle? Kyle? says, nice and slow, like he’s solving one of the world’s greatest mysteries. “That one.”

Trevor tips his head to the side.

“If you don’t want to earn some pocket money, I can always find someone else who will,” Trevor says.

Because Los Santos.

Chock full of people like this one.

The guy squints at Trevor.

Big guy. Somewhat imposing, if you happen to be easily imposed. Nose that’s been broken at least once and rough around the edges (aren’t they all, though?). Scruff going on to make him seem older and admirably suspicious because it is an odd request.

“What’s the catch?”

Trevor doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does.

“Oh, you know,” he says, big, big smile. “The usual.”

========

Gerald, Trevor’s going to call him Gerald, takes the offer.

“Sure, why the fuck not?”

It’s a lot of money just to steal a car, and Trevor was reliably informed Gerald would do just about anything for the right price.

Sold a lot of people out for less, or so Trevor’s heard. Has a habit of screwing over his partners and so on and Trevor is delighted the man’s greed has gotten the better of him yet once again. Makes having to send one of the others to pay him a little visit unnecessary later.

Birds and stones, and a delicious touch of karma because some of the people Gerald’s fucked over were theirs and that simply won’t do.

Gerald doesn’t seem to have caught on just yet, but Trevor’s sure he’ll figure it out along the way.

========

There are rules to this, of course.

The others may use any and all vehicles at their disposal, but weapons aren’t allowed.

If, for example, one of them were to get their hands on a Lazer from Zancudo, they’re not allowed to use missiles (homing or otherwise) or the cannons. (If they get their hands on tank, just. No.)

Gerald is likewise forbidden from using weapons. In case he were to get ideas, what with Trevor riding along in the backseat of their vehicle and all. (Trevor’s wearing his favorite clothes and would just hate to get blood on them.)

Other than that, it’s a free-for-all, which in Trevor’s experience always goes smoothly with this bunch.

========

“Oh, my,” Trevor says, watching a Cargobob overshoot them. “That was a close one, wasn’t it.”

Gerald swears, anger and something like panic creeping into his voice and for good reason. The crew is out in force today, Cargobobs overhead and stolen police cars behind. A generous smattering of other stolen vehicles all over the place and they’ve only been at this for twenty, thirty minutes at the outside.

Very dramatic, all of it.

Pulse-pounding adventure and danger. High-speed chases and the car’s engine is making this distressing noise, smoke coming from its engine.

Trevor waves as an SUV goes screaming past, and snaps a picture with his phone – it’s bound to turn out blurry and out of focus, but he’s sure Jeremy will appreciate the thought behind it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” Gerald demands as he puts their poor car in reverse, aiming for a side street they passed. “I mean, seriously. What the fuck?”

Trevor grins and takes a picture of Gerald as he scowls at Trevor in the rearview.

For memories.

“Creative types,” he says, which isn’t stretching the truth at all. The others come up with the most...inventive heists and all sorts of shenanigans. “Wacky.”

========

After the Tank incident several years back, about the time Trevor got dragged into the madness that is the Fake AH Crew, they’re forbidden from bringing a tank into the city.

APCs and the like, however, are not tanks.

“Holy shit,” Gerald whispers, the very image of a broken man. “Holy shit.”

Trevor hmms, and checks to make sure his seat-belt is secure.

“Indeed,” he agrees, and it’s such a shame he ran out of physical room on his phone for videos because their tiny little car facing a line of Brickades is a stunning sight.

Gerald makes this noise in the back of his throat, and Trevor can see the moment he throws all caution to the wind and has his fuck it, what the fuck moment as he puts his foot to the pedal and they shoot forward.

While there are several Brickades present, there aren’t enough to create an effective blockade. More to intimidate than anything else, and Gerald squeezes their car through the narrow gap left open to them with inches to spare. (At least two, possibly three.)

========

There’s a small flock of drones buzzing around them and a Terrorbyte bearing down on them at the other end of the runway. (Not great odds, but Gerald is proving to be quite resourceful or just incredibly lucky.)

“Are those goddamned blimps?”

There’s also a parachute in the air, and by the rainbow pattern it has to be Gavin.

“They’re faster than you’d think,” Trevor says, “and surprisingly maneuverable.”

He smiles, bland little thing, when Gerald gives him an incredulous look.

========

“Why the hell do you people have so many vehicles?”

Trevor glances up from his phone.

“Sorry, what?” he asks, and Gerald repeats himself with a skosh more emphasis this time.

Trevor shrugs, glancing out his window at the freight train they're keeping pace with, occasional flashes of color as the others tries to land on one of the flatcars. They look like dolphins swimming alongside ye olde sailing ships.

Beautiful and graceful even in failure.

They’re being (gently) herded back to Los Santos, although Gerald seems to think he’s still in control of their destination and not the other way around.

“Well I mean,” he says, and shrugs again. “Nice things.”

Shiny, shiny things. Like a kid in a candy store, his crew. See something flashy, shiny and have to have it. Come up with an idea for a heist to get their hands on it or some form of shenanigans or what have you.

Gerald stares at him in the rearview mirror as though he’s realized they’re all a bunch of lunatics.

========

Like all good things, this merry little chase Gerald’s been leading the others must end.

Unlike all good things, it ends with a blockade created with a handy-dandy rocket launcher, several parked cars, and a crashed ultralight as several Cargobobs hover overhead. (They really do love their Cargobobs.)

Also, Ryan hauling poor Gerald out of the driver’s seat where he’s in the process of beating the everloving shit out of him.

Trevor can’t hear whatever Ryan’s telling Gerald as he teaches him a lesson using violence – he’d be a terrible teacher – but he can guess.

Winces as Ryan drags Gerald in for one last doozy of a punch before dropping his unconscious body to the ground, shoulders heaving a little from exertion. Sees Ryan take a moment to compose himself before he makes his way back to the battered car that’s somehow survived the day’s activities.

He unlocks the door and smiles up at Ryan when he wrenches it open like a brute.

“Hello, Ryan,” he says, bright and cheerful. Flattens a hand against his chest and bats his eyes up at the strong, burly man who rescued him from the clutches of the vile kidnapper. Says, with a terrible Southern accent, “My hero.”

Ryan stares at him for a long, long moment, and then he sighs.

All dramatic about it too, the way Geoff gets sometimes as though life is an endless bout of pain and suffering and woe is him, woe is him.

“I hate you,” Ryan says, matter-of-fact, just a simple little declaration.

Trevor smiles.

“I’m sure you do,” he says. Tips his head to the side. “But the real question is, are you still bored?”

There’s a (literal) trail of crashed and ruined vehicles behind them marking the meandering path Gerald took and who knows how much in property damage.

Chaos, panic, and so on. (Par for the course for them.)

Ryan opens his mouth, and pauses.

Unconsciously mirrors Trevor by tipping his head the opposite direction as he considers Trevor’s question. Makes this annoyed sound when he finds his answer.

“...No,” he admits.

Trevor beams at him.

“Well there you go, then!” he says.

The crew had an exciting day and Gerald got his comeuppance for fucking over one of theirs. (Most likely he hasn’t connected the dots, but if he hasn’t there’s always next time.)

“You’re a lunatic,” Ryan says, as though a sane man would be in Trevor’s position with the crew.

Trevor laughs, because yes, but also -

“Thank you, Mr. Vagabond. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Ryan snorts and steps back to let Trevor out of the poor battered car that’s somehow survived everything they threw at it today.

Trevor looks around at the destruction, random people gawking far too close for their own safety. Looks up, and smiles at the Cargobobs circling the area.

The lone Frogger, because Lindsay.

Back down at Ryan who’s got his hand pressed to his earpiece as he talks to the others to let them know Trevor’s “mugger” has been neutralized and Trevor himself is unharmed and so on and so forth.

He feels something a lot like fondness as Ryan keeps shooting him these little looks, giving that up t some point to stand beside him. Shoulder touching Trevor’s because then at least, he’ll have some warning if Trevor slips away to start a bonus round to their little game.

Overhead one of the Cargobobs separates from the pack and looks for a good place to land to ferry them back to the penthouse, and the faint sound of sirens sound in the distance.

Good old LSPD and various emergency services leaping into action now that the Fake AH Crew has finished another one of their games and it’s safe for people to come out to deal with the mess left behind. It’s an odd agreement, understanding, they have, because this kind of game isn’t about body counts the LSPD’s learned it’s better in the long run if the crew get to have their fun.

Trevor laughs at the absurdity of it all because they’re all a little mad here, aren’t they? Keeps things interesting.

“Madman,” Ryan says with a little shake of his head and something like amusement in his voice. “Let’s go home.”

Well, the penthouse, really.

Celebratory drinks, and takeout set to embellished recounting of the day’s adventures. Plans for future rounds with a few tweaks thrown in, and this overall sense of accomplishment on Trevor’s part because the damn pumpkin worked.

[mst3kproject]

907: Hobgoblins

I have to begin with a confession: I've never been able to watch this episode all the way through.  I've tried.  I can't do it.  Hobgoblins is too awful.  Too stupid.  Too tedious.  Watching the movie for this review was actually the first time I've seen how it ends.

Ha ha ha.  Like I give a shit how this movie ends.

So there's this old film studio lot with an eldery security guard who is trying to train a successor, but his new hires keep dying on him.  The latest model is called 'Kevin'.  Kevin is dull in both looks and personality, and hangs out with a bunch of annoying stereotypes: there's Daphne the Slut, her boyfriend Nick the Rambo-Wannabe, Kyle the Dorky Pervert, and Amy the Repressed Ice Bitch.  Unfortunately for us in the audience, these idiots are not the expendable meat.  They do not get amusingly killed off one by one.  These are the characters we're supposed to like and they all survive. Fuck, I hate this movie.

Anyway, the reason the apprentice security guards keep dying is because the film vault is home to four hobgoblins, ugly little puppets from outer space who have the power to bring people's fantasies to life and then kill them.  The movie tries to make some kind of point out of this, with the old security guard explaining that what people want isn't always what's good for them.  This is often true: think of the people in the real world who've achieved their own dreams of fame and fortune only to end up broke, addicted, in jail, or all three.  That, however, is hard to depict in less than a hundred minutes with a budget of less than a hundred dollars and an IQ of less than a hundred points, so the movie is a little less subtle and realistic about it.

The previous apprentice security guard, Dennis, got a few seconds of being a rock star before tripping over nothing, falling off the stage, and I guess breaking his neck.  Kyle's dream is a physical date with his favourite phone sex girl, who tries to push his car off a cliff.  Nick wants to be a war hero: he jumps on a grenade.  Amy wants to open herself up to sexuality, so she becomes a stripper and... you know, I don't want to know how her backstage quickie with the hairy bouncer would have destroyed her.  Same for Daphne's 'truck full of soldiers' fantasy.  We can take it for granted that it would have been fucking stupid.

Supposedly the fantasies only disappear when the Hobgoblins get killed, but even though I counted at least four dead hobgoblins there are somehow still a couple of them left when they get chased back into the vault at the end.  The old security guy then blows up the whole building with dynamite that he's apparently had on hand the entire time and never used.  Why the hell didn't he do that years ago? The characters loudly let us know that they have learned nothing from any of this, and then, thank god, it's over.

Hobgoblins is so incredibly bad it almost defies description. It is painful even to look at this fucking movie. This is in large measure because there's nothing in it to look at. Movies should really have things like mood lighting, direction, and set dressing, but Hobgoblins has none of that. The set dressing thing is actually particularly noticeable.  There are three major 'sets' in the 'movie', if I can use those words: the warehouse, Kevin's place (I think it's Kevin's place, at least), and Club Scum.  All of them suck furry hobgoblin wang.

The 'warehouse' is some kind of office building.  It's nowhere near shabby enough to be actually abandoned – the floors look like Kalgan was only just through there on his linoleum zamboni – and possesses about as much personality as a jar of Cheez Wiz. It's not creepy.  It looks like someplace where those old high school friends Facebook wants you to re-connect with probably ended up working.  The movie could have done something with this, juxtaposing a workaday exterior with the horrors hidden within, but doesn't bother.

Kevin's house looks like they got permission to film there by promising to buy it from the realtor who's been trying to sell the place for six months.  They probably got all their shooting done in an afternoon and then absconded before anybody could demand a down-payment.  Like the warehouse, it's completely bland.  Both the exterior siding and interior walls are beige.  There's not much by the way of décor, and almost no furniture.  I think we're supposed to believe that only Kevin and Amy actually live there, though it seems a bit odd that they'd be living together when their relationship is emphatically not sexual.  Based on what we see of the others, however, it looks for all the world like Kyle camps out on the living room sofa every night, and Daphne apparently lives with Nick in his van in the driveway.

I probably shouldn't judge.  I've seen weirder living arrangements among twenty-somethings.

Then there's Club Scum, which is supposed to be a strip bar where tough types hang out.  I think it was filmed in an elementary school auditorium.  All the 'set dressing' is stuff that can be quickly taken down because the PTA needs the space for their Holiday Bake Sale on Saturday.  And despite the place's supposed reputation, the movie balks at showing anything questionable actually happening there: some extras drink fake beer, and Amy 'strips' by taking her gloves off.  That’s about it.

Some band that was willing to work for ‘exposure’ puts in an appearance here.  Their song is bad but it does its job, which is to make the movie three minutes longer.

Costumes are as minimal as sets.  It's a funny thing about costumes and sets – when they're done well, you don't notice them.  They become nothing but the clothes people are wearing and the places they are in.  If you're looking at them as costumes and sets, it means that somebody has fucked up.  The people on the Club Scum set are wearing costumes, dressed up as tough types but in no way actually inhabiting those characters.  They look like they're at a Hallowe'en party.  So does 'Fantazia' the phone sex girl, in her leopard-print top and tight gold pants.  The clothes worn by the main characters look like they're a product of the actors being told “dress like a _____.” Dress like a soldier.  Dress like a prude.  I dunno, just show up with clothes on.  The only costumes in the whole movie that really work are those worn by the security guards, and that's mostly because security guards in real life don't look like they particularly inhabit their uniforms, either.

As well as nothing to look at, there's nothing to listen to.  The characters have nothing interesting to say, because like the sets, they're boring and flavourless.  Each has a single note that they never deviate from.  We have no idea why any of these people hang out with each other.  Why are Amy and Daphne friends, when their only personality characteristics are the diametrically opposed 'prude' and 'slut'?  Why do Kevin and Kyle hang out, when they barely interact?  Why are Kevin and Amy dating when they don't even seem to like each other? The only relationship in the film that is given any kind of basis is that of Daphne and Nick, who seem to be together entirely for the sex.

I want to say that writer and director Rick Sloane clearly has one hell of a madonna/whore complex, but considering that the men in this movie also seem to define themselves in terms of the sex they are or are not having... I guess he's actually just a creepy weirdo.

If this movie has any defenders (which I doubt – even Sloane knew it sucked corn-filled, coiled-up shit, because he submitted it to MST3K himself), they might now be saying that none of this matters, because the movie is a comedy.  One-note characters are part of the joke! That argument may hold water for some movies – Zoolander, for example, derives much of its humour from the title character's stupidity and narcissism.  It doesn't work for Hobgoblins, though.  In order for something to be part of a joke, the movie has to have at least one joke.  Hobgoblins does not.  It has premises that could be used for jokes, but no jokes are ever made with them.

The most obvious example is probably Daphne.  Daphne is a slut.  The movie tells us this over and over: Daphne is the sluttiest slut ever to need an improbable amount of semen pumped from her stomach, and... that's it.  That's as far as it ever goes.

That's not a joke.  Daphne is a slut is not a joke, it's merely a statement.  Your mama's so fat, she went to a restaurant and got a group discount is a joke. It takes a premise (your mama is fat) and does something with it, taking it too far and drawing an absurd conclusion (the restaurant staff thought she counted as several people).  You can't just say your mama's so fat and end there, because that's not funny to anyone over the age of six.  Neither is Daphne's sluttiness, Kyle's phone sex addiction, Amy's repression, or Nick's assholetude.  The movie acts as if these things are funny all by themselves, but they're not, not even on the puerile and insulting level of a 'your mama' joke.

The closest Hobgoblins ever comes to having a joke is when the characters agree that one person should hold all the wallets while they're in Club Scum – they elect Kyle, who is promptly robbed at knifepoint by a thug who was listening to the whole conversation.  This is obviously supposed to be funny, but again, nothing is done with it.  It's just a thing that happens and is then immediately forgotten about.  It's shit, just like everything else.  Fuck this movie.

Seeing as I've already said I consider The Starfighters to be possibly the worst movie ever shown on MST3K, I'm sure somebody reading this is wondering which I would rather watch – Starfighters or Hobgoblins.  And to that person, whoever they may be, I answer thusly:

[365footballorg-blog]

Wiebe: Why your (playoff) team will lift the 2018 MLS Cup

October 31, 20182:34PM EDT

Can your team win MLS Cup? Sure, why not? It could happen. It probably won’t, though – better to get that out of the way now.

That’s how I started this column back in March, in which I did my best to make a case for all 23 teams to win MLS Cup. Let’s just say there were some serious logical fallacies in there. Looking at you Colorado Rapids, San Jose Earthquakes, Orlando City and eight other clubs for whom the dream is dead. Better luck next year.

For the 12 who qualified for the Audi 2018 MLS Cup Playoffs – in my book, the bare minimum it takes to call the league season a success – there’s another case to be made for lifting the Phillip F. Anschutz trophy on December 8. There’s also a chorus of haters waiting to bring everyone down.

Here we go, from No. 12 to No. 1 in the Supporters’ Shield standings, all in 280 characters or less because we’re all addicted to Twitter and nobody’s got time for 5,000 words on a Wednesday gameday. Don’t forget to get your Audi 2018 MLS Cup Playoffs Bracket Challenge set and join the ExtraTime Radio league.

Real Salt Lake

Thanks to the LA Galaxy’s improbable defeat on Sunday, RSL veterans Nick Rimando, left, and Kyle Beckerman have one more shot at playoff glory | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because they’ve done it before. Remember ’09? RSL eked into the final playoff spot and won it all. Rusnak = Javi, Savarino = Espindola, Beckerman/Rimando = Beckerman/Rimando and … there is no Saborio equivalent. If they can get past the KO Round and get a home game, they’ve got a shot.

Haters Will Say Those “1 in a million” odds aren’t going to go their way twice, and LAFC already dropped five on them earlier this season at the RioT, and won 2-0 in Los Angeles. No playoff team has taken more road Ls (11) than RSL. Rested or not, Knockout Round is the logical end of the road.

Philadelphia Union

Jim Curtin, left, said Ilsinho, right, will play a key role in Wednesday’s Knockout Round game at New York City FC | USA Today Sorts Images

They’ll Win Because Corey Burke and Fafa Picault get stupid hot, and whoever pairs in central defense (pick from Auston Trusty, Mark McKenzie, Jack Elliott) goes full Maldini. The Union can draw on their USOC run. That will give them the drive (and necessary pragmatism) to grind out an MLS Cup shocker.

Haters Will Say it’s a step too far. If Philly couldn’t finish the Open Cup job in Houston after a raft of home games, what makes anyone think they can get past NYCFC at Yankee Stadium then the Shield-winning Red Bulls then likely ATLUTD or D.C. United and finally MLS Cup on the road? Dream on.

Columbus Crew SC

Gyasi Zardes, left, has made a strong bid for comeback player of the year with 19 goals this season | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because It’s fate. After the toughest year in club history off the field, Gregg Berhalter and the boys cook up the perfect reward for Crew SC supporters. Justin Meram, Pipa Higuain and Pedro Santos turn the clock back to 2017, and 3G cooks up the perfect tactical plan round after round.

Haters Will Say no team scored fewer road goals this season than Columbus (11), and you think they’re going to Audi Field and knocking LuchoRoo and D.C. United off their perch as league darlings? Please. Ain’t gonna happen. Their season ends on Thursday night.

D.C. United

Ben Olsen, right, is having his most enjoyable stretch as a head coach. Wayne Rooney, left, is a big reason why. | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because The Law Firm of Rooney, Acosta, Canouse & Hamid has quality, momentum and home-field advantage on their side. Check out the matchups. Semifinals against Red Bulls? You can’t hold them back, c’mon. Next up Atlanta? Benny vs. Tata = W. Bring the raccoons to the parade. They’ve earned it.

Haters Will Say They’ve won just once away all year. Red Bull Arena and Mercedes-Benz Stadium don’t have the same juju as Audi Field. Rooney’s magic has to fade at some point, right? You can get to Lucho Acosta by kicking him, which will happen a lot in the playoffs. Their luck will run out.

Portland Timbers

Can the Timbers surprise folks this postseason under first-year coach Giovanni Savarese | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because Diego Valeri is healthy this year, Sebastian Blanco can win a game singlehandedly and Diego Chara lives to smother your happiness, assuming you aren’t a Timbers fan. Gio’s got titles. He knows there’s no need to overcomplicate things. Solid defensive block and counter … all the way to MLS Cup.

Haters Will Say You can’t play Real Salt Lake every game. Since winning 3-2 at Seattle back on June 30, the Timbers’ only wins against playoff teams are the Union and Crew SC at home and the recent double vs. RSL. That’s two No. 6 seeds and a No. 5. Same period, other playoff teams: 0-3-2.

New York City FC

Will the return of Yangel Herrera, pictured, and Maxi Moralez spark NYCFC to a playoff run? | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because They’re finally healthy (ish). Did you read what David Villa said about Yangel Herrera? You should. NYCFC were already nails at Yankee Stadium. Now they’ve got their most influential player back in the nick of time. Jesus Medina is back, too. And everyone is doubting them. Good mix and a good read on it to boot.

HATERS WILL SAY Dome hasn’t found the answers, Villa isn’t the Villa of old and 2 wins in 10 (against Chicago and Philly … at home) aren’t indicative of postseason success. It’s too much to ask of Herrera to dominate games. Medina will be rusty. Same old, same old for the blue side of New York, which is to say … playoff flame out.

FC Dallas

Reggie Cannon has been a key part of Dallas’ steady back line | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because They’re consistent, if unspectacular. The backline isn’t gonna make boneheaded errors, and Maxi Urruti and Michael Barrios go HAM. Dated reference? Fair, but you could say the same about Urruti the goalscorer. May is a long time ago. Basically, Dallas find a way to score, and that sluggish second half doesn’t matter.

Haters Will Say Dallas can’t score and that sluggish second half matters. Forget MLS Cup, the Timbers are going to win in the Knockout Round because they have better attacking players and won’t give Dallas space to break into on the counter. Even if Dallas win, they’re not on the same level as Sporting, Seattle or LAFC.

LAFC

LAFC part-owner Will Ferrell is hoping his club’s inaugural season has a Hollywood ending | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because That’s what Bob Bradley does in expansion seasons. Coaching matters, and Bradley’s gonna gameplan like there is no tomorrow. Also, they’ve got the best collection of top-end attacking talent in the Western Conference. Vela, Rossi, Diomande and a couple former MVP candidates in the midfield.

Haters Will Say The backline can be shaky, and they can’t hold leads. And when you can’t hold leads, particularly at home, you lose in the playoffs. That could apply to the Knockout Round, but it most definitely applies to home-and-home series in which road goals matter a whole hell of a lot.

Seattle Sounders

Raul Ruidiaz celebrates his game-winning goal in Seattle’s win over San Jose on Sunday | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because they’ve had the best half-season in MLS history, they know exactly what it takes to get to MLS Cup and they have Stefan Frei, Chad Marshall, Ozzie Alonso, Cristian Roldan, Nico Lodeiro and Raul Ruidiaz up the gut. That’s a #squad. Roll the balls out, let these guys do their thing and have a parade at the end.

Haters Will Say What are they even good at? Do they have an identity? Whoops, that was Bobby Warshaw circa four months ago. Don’t worry, he’s come around.

They’ll be eliminated because they come up against a team as good or better (Sporting? LAFC? East top two?) and just can’t get it done on the day. The Sounders have weaknesses – every single team in MLS does – but I find it near impossible to pick against them in the playoffs.

Sporting KC

Sporting Kansas City clinched the top spot in the Western Conference with their victory over LAFC on Sunday | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because They’re balanced. No more defense and timely goals win championships … or perhaps more accurately, get you eliminated in the Knockout Round. Bad jokes aside, this version of Sporting can shut you out and blow you out. They’ve got loads more attacking quality and they’re deeper than ever before, plus the back six and Tim Melia are rock solid.

Haters Will Say Seth Sinovic is the key to everything and he’s missing the first leg of the conference semis. I’m only partially kidding. Dude only scores in the playoffs. Look it up. Haters will say that they still don’t have a primary goalscorer. It’s true. They’ve got a whole bunch of sporadic scorers, and that’s been more than enough. But in the playoffs when there’s no room for a dry spell?

Atlanta United

Striker Josef Martinez scored an MLS record 31 goals during the 2018 regular season | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because they’re the most talented team in MLS, and they keep things tight in the first leg of the Conference Semifinals to buy time for Miguel Almiron. He helps finish off either NYCFC or D.C. United, then Atlanta get two weeks to rest up and recover for the Red Bulls, who bottle it like usual. MLS Cup at MBS? That’s a win.

Haters Will Say “Hahahahahahaha [deep breath] Hahahahahahaha”

That’s literally what they’ll say on Reddit and Twitter. They’ll say it because Miguel Almiron wasn’t ready to be Miguel Almiron again, Josef Martinez’s historic season sputtered at exactly the wrong time and Tata said adios before the job was done. Don’t worry Five Stripes faithful, you’ll be fine.

New York Red Bulls

A young Red Bulls fan celebrates the club capturing its third Supporters’ Shield on Sunday | USA Today Sports Images

They’ll Win Because they’re MLS’s best team. Most points ever, and nobody understands their collective ethos/identity better than these Red Bulls. That goes a long way in the playoffs, when the games get more physical and the margins narrow. Then there’s the legacy aspect. This club isn’t lacking for motivation or pressure.

Haters Will Say “That’s so Metro.”

Need I say more?

Series: 

Topics: 

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Wiebe: Why your (playoff) team will lift the 2018 MLS Cup was originally published on 365 Football