Heart-Shaped Box Office

Told you I'd be back.

I'm starting to think that until Indy 4 comes out, we might not have any great movies out in our collective theaters. It seems like every time I glance at this country's cinematic fare, it becomes more and more saturated with absolute, undeniable shit.

And just like last time, I'm gonna review the top ten box office grossers so you poor bastards don't have to spend your time, money, brain function, and youth shilling out our badly wounded dollar for motion-picture sadism.

1. 21 - The story of a handful of MIT students who decide to break the house's blackjack advantage by learning to count cards. Things go awry, however, when they learn 1) they are being tracked by Morpheus and 2) their blackjack coach FedEx-es human heads to Morgan Freeman.

2. Horton Hears A Who - Slowly going insane, anthropomorphic elephant Horton slaughters countless beloved Dr. Seuss characters at the behest of a talking speck of dust.

3. Superhero Movie - The hilarious new comedy from the hacks who brought you Scary Movie, Epic Movie, Date Movie, Not Another Teen Movie, Television Movie, Enema Movie, 1960's Era Football High School Team Where Things Are Sort Of Racially Charged At The Onset But End Up Working Out OK Because They Overcome Their Differences To Win State Champion Movie, and Batman.

4. Tyler Perry's Meet The Browns - I don't know what this is about. Ask X.

5. Drillbit Taylor - Remember when Owen Wilson tried to kill himself? Let's try that again.

6. Shutter - Like Ringu and The Grudge before it, Shutter re-affirms our Western fear that every Japanese girl will soon rise from the grave to kill us all.

7. 10,000 BC - The sad thing is, I'll bet about 50% of the people who see this movie probably think that this happened. These same people regularly peruse the internets looking for tickets to Jurassic Park.

8. Stop-Loss - You're right. This is a stupid policy. Let's have a draft instead!

9. College Road Trip - Hot on the heels of... Big Momma's House 3... or something... Martin Lawrence proves that his career hit its high point with Bad Boys.

10. The Bank Job - I can think of something more fun to do which can also be abbreviated B.J.

That's right.

Bat jousting.

They Were Panting...

... like a pedophile at a playground.

'Cause The Dude said he'd be coming back very soon.

Yuengling-Feueld Thoughts

In less than two and a half months, I will turn 21. Some equate this milestone with the coming Apocalypse, and those zealots are not entirely mistaken. I do, in fact, intend to cause a rip in the space-time continuum by ordering drinks fast enough to warp the fabric of our universe.

How would you spend your tax return if you were me; a surfboard to learn on when I move to the beach this summer, a PLAYSTATION 3 so I can next-gen game, or a quaint little handgun? All of those have their merits, sure, but only one can ward off a horde of zombies. Think about it.

Speaking of zombies, I've decided not to vote for John McCain in the impending presidential election. Unless Hilary gets the nomination, in which case I'd feel compelled to defend my country against a shrewed, cackling empress hell-bent on instating universal health care and women's suffrage.

I'll go ahead and cast my vote for Yuengling as America's best beer, however. Sure, it gets you smashed just as quick as Busch Light or Miller Lite (the only light pilsener that doesn't taste of ash and piss), but it just seems like Yuengling leads you down the path of inebriation in a much gentler, amiable way. That, and it tastes like great sex feels. Y'know... good.

Speaking of Yuengling, check out the picture I found for today's post. Says, "Stolen from BrewAndChew.com". You know, I believe that instead of copyrights and exclusive image rights on the internet, all picture should come with a similar watermark. Wanna plagiarize? Go on ahead, but you have to put "Stolen from PointsInCase.com" after every paragraph. In large, bold, red, yellow, and black letters.

Whoever came up with the idea of pulled-pork barbecue was a Goddamn genius.

Whoever came up with the open container law was a Goddamn moron.

Who would win in a fight; a caveman or a lumberjack?

I saw the first specks of pollen the other day when I went out for a cigarette. Every year around this time in North Carolina, every object not completely shielded from the outside world will gain a sickly pastel yellow hue as layer upon layer of plant sperm accumulates on every surface. I've been allergic to pollen ever since I can remember, which gives me all kinds of mixed feelings about this time of year. For one, the temperatures are starting to sneak out of the 50's, so it's a treat to finally start seeing some great sets of legs emerge from their wintry denim layers. On the other hand, as soon as I step outside, I'm likely to sneeze one of my lungs out on the sidewalk, which gathers strange looks from passerby and probably requires some kinda medical attention.

And now, the booze safari;

1. Cereal germ.

2. Fatty alcohol.

3. Alcohol.

4. Alcoholic beverage.

I'm Not Dead. Frankly.

I've just been really fucking busy.

Aside from trying to salvage a lot of my grades that were (and continue to be) hurt by my quaint little case of alcoholism, I've had a few things that have taken precedent over PICing for the last while or so. Chiefly, last week was NC State's spring break, and even if I had wireless or a laptop at the beach, I wouldn't have been sober enough to see the keys or remember the English language.

I did notice upon my return that since a lot of opinionated peons don't have anything better to do than insult Paul Frank's writings, his blog no longer features comments. I'm not one to preach, and I think I do a pretty good job of not giving a damn about the opinions of others. However, being a fellow PIC writer and having gotten negative feedback on my shit as well, I am going to opine on this a bit.

Just in case you're one of my readers and happen to hate Frank's writing, or not get Frank's writing, or just don't care, then do what you should do with Paul's stuff; skip ahead and find something else to read.

I really don't see what is so damn hard about ignoring something you don't like. Long before Court threw me this blog, I was a PIC reader. I read Gaudio's old stuff and Nate's old stuff and Dan Opp's old stuff and got a kick out of it. I never really liked Roxine Hamm's writing, so guess what? I didn't read her damn blog. It didn't offend me that she was writing, and I didn't take issue with her presence on the site. I just didn't think it was funny. So I read something else.

Frank has got chops. His stuff is a little more "out there" than a lot of other content on PIC, and I can understand if there are some 14-year-olds who would rather read Nate's strip club columns than Frank's Hitler-heavy posts. Great. Nate is funny in his own way, as is Gaudio, and, hell, at least X is trying. Paul's got his own style too, and like Monty Python, not everyone gets it. Nate and I have discussed it before, and we both agree that on humor alone, neither he nor I could beat Frank on our best day when he's on a roll. He's a funny guy when he's in the zone. Lord knows I've posted shit that just plain wasn't funny, but when you're writing with any kind of frequency, there's gonna be some days when you're shit. Like this post, which is more homily than humor.

Like it or not, the young writers like Frank and myself are the future of PIC, and having writers with different styles is one of the great things about this site. Best get used to it.

Late DeadGraaf

Ladies and gentlefolk, Nathan DeGraaf is dead (he's the one on the right).

As we all know, Mr. DeGraaf usually uploads his Snippets on Wednesdays, which, I'm sure, fills you all with merriment and mirth and smiles and such. Unfortunately, we will hear no more excerpts from his weekly conversations. I will wait for you all to grieve.

I'm not entirely sure what circumstances precipitated his untimely demise, but I think we can all take comfort in the fact that it involved copious amounts of booze, a beautiful woman (slut), and some measure of witty banter. Truly, he will be missed. His was a rich and varied and soused life.

His, too, was a rich and varied writing. From the best way to abuse your significant other, to a several-part dissertation on strip clubs, to a heartfelt and genuine account of one man's reaction to last year's Virginia Tech massacre, The Flying Dutchman brought us laughter and quiet introspection and delicate subjects, each through the lens of the everyman lush within us all. I, for one, am on my tenth beer in honor of our late friend Nate DeGraaf, the Missouri Grizzard.

But, as we all know, Points In Case's most prolific blogger and columnist would as soon die as miss a deadline. The Snippets are on Wednesdays. Other content follows, usually on Monday and Friday, with a bit sprinkled in between.

So, with only his absence to signal his departure from this mortal coil, let us all remember Nathan DeGraaf, the writer. Nathan DeGraaf, the internet colleague. Nathan DeGraaf, who once dumped a hot chick for insulting Lord Stanley's Cup.

Cheers, you crazy Dutch bastard. Send down some heavenly Snippets down between you and St. Peter for all us sinners.