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Real Weekend at Bernie’s less hilarious than expected

What a delightfully zany premise

There are very few movies more implausible than Weekend at Bernie’s.  Only movies where Nick Nolte is sober or Sharon Stone isn’t a prostitute seem more far fetched.  Well it turns out that Weekend at Bernie’s is very real, and a lot less hilarious than I’ve been led to believe.  Robert Young and Mark Rubinson of Denver decided that their buddy wasn’t too dead to party with, or at least not too dead to pay their tab (this is your fault Andrew McCarthy, you made “violating a corpse” seem delightfully zany).

Via The Associated Press

Young arrived at Jarrett’s home and found him unresponsive.

But rather than call the authorities, police say, Young went to find Rubinson.

The duo returned to Jarrett’s home and put his lifeless body into Rubinson’s SUV and headed to a nightspot where they spent more than an hour drinking — leaving Jarrett’s body in the vehicle, according to police documents. Police say the two men used Jarrett’s card to pay for the drinks on Aug. 27, noting “they did not have Jarrett’s consent.”

Rubinson and Young then drove to another restaurant to hang out, Jarrett’s body slumped in the back along for the ride, police say.

They then returned to Jarrett’s home, carried him in and put him in bed, according to court papers.

From there, police say, Rubinson and Young went to get gas and made a stop at a burrito joint, again using Jarrett’s card. The two men then went to a strip club, where authorities say they used Jarrett’s card to take out $400 from an ATM and flagged down a police officer to tell him they thought their friend was dead. Police went to Jarrett’s home and found the body.

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Finally, I can kick Dave Coulier in the Genitals

No, you cut it out. I'm talking about the molestation.

Like many kids born in the 80’s, I have always wanted to hit Dave Coulier in the genitals with a baseball bat.  It’s nothing personal.  For all I know, Dave Coulier is a class act.  A man of honour and substance.  None of this is relevant.  His character Joey Gladstone: the basement dwelling, (probably) pedophile uncle, always seemed creepy to me.  Using his cartoon impressions to lure unsuspecting kids down to his dungeon (is it taking it too far to call it a sex dungeon?).  Even just kicking him right in the “woodchuck” seems satisfying to me (equally satisfying: hitting Kimmy Gibbler with a series of cars).

Well (clearly psychotic) people like me can have their wish, a street fighter-esque game featuring the cast of Full House.  That’s right, Full House: Tournament Fighter.  If this was out I’d buy it in a heartbeat.  I would trade in everything I own, including my kidneys and three of my original teeth.  I would sell the rights to my life story to Michael Bay (it would be a 90 minute movie about a person writing or watching TV with needless and unexplained explosions).  Anything to get a crack at Uncle Joey, or to at least use the dog to maul one of the Olsen twins.

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Think. Don’t Smoke. Be too cool for school.

Getting hammered is cool though

I’d like to think that I’m not a horrible person.  That I’m a gregarious young man, brimming with wit and an altruistic personality.  Truth is, I’m probably a pretty big jerk.  With the personality of a selfish, borderline sociopath.  How else could you explain that the television show that matches my comedic sensibilities is It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia?  The characters are selfish, deplorable and greedy.  They are also funny.  In celebration their return (the front of my pants is tightening just thinking about it), I present to you…Rob McElhenny’s anti-smoking commercial.  This is one of those commercials that you vaguely remember, especially since the kid is the personification of “too cool for school”.  Well that kid was Mac, so no doubt he was too cool for school or at least was the ultimate cooler.

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Youtube is a regular Billy Crystal

The anticipation is killing me

Her breath hung in the sky, a stark contrast to the clear crisp air.  The steel clouds held a constant threat of snow, hoping to join its brethren who had littered the ground the previous night.  The woman was tired, her once good looks ravaged by age.  Her face was a roadmap of lines, indicating the journey she had travelled in her previous 75 years.  The first step on the stairs was unsure as she gripped the handrail tightly.  The second step was more confident and her grip on the railing eased.  With the third step she had grown cocky, her hand was removed from the railing entirely.  This would prove to be her undoing.

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