Toy Story 3: Not Quite The Feel Good Movie of our Generation

19 08 2013

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I know normally you guys look to our movie guru, Kleinz Five Sev, for all your movie review needs, but since the mime is on the verge of irrelevance, I figured I’d drop a quick movie review of my own, get back to my blogging roots. Quick side note: for those of you wondering where the hell we’ve been all summer the answer is simple, I have no clue. Places? Doing…stuff? Bottom line is we’ve been gone, and I apologize for that. I know some of you count on the mime for your daily written entertainment, without the mime you’d slip into a severe depression and maybe lock yourself in a closet never to see the light of day again. Well if that’s the case, I’d probably find a new website. But, hey, thanks for the support!

Alright, now to the matter at hand, Toy Story 3. Ya boy spent his Sunday evening yesterday watching the third installment of this “American Classic” and let me start by saying, sweet moses it was not what I expected. By that I mean, spoiler alert, shit was mad sad, yo. Straight depressing, B. I’m talking right up there with Ladder 49 sad (R.I.P Joaquin…we hardly knew ye). First off, when I think of Toy Story I think of feel good flick of the year. I think of Randy Newman singing about friendship, and I think about the homey Woody, keeping it real. Well throw all that shit out the window, because in Toy Story 3 it’s all about the harsh reality of  being a toy.

To start, Andy is going to college. Holy lord. I remember when he was like four. So there’s that. Makes ya feel real old even before the damn thing begins. And, as expected, his mom is cleaning the shit out of his room. We’ve all been there…hide the porn, amiright?? Yada, yada, he needs to either throw out the toys or their going up in the attic. Andy wants to toss em in the attic but his mom thinks he meant to throw them out…BOOM, toys are pissed. They think Andy turned on them, and rightfully so. Kid is kind of a dick now. So they hitch a ride to the nearest daycare, which turns out to be some sort of concentration camp for toys. Dark stuff, right? They’re forced into manual labor by a fat purple bear and a Ken doll. Buzz gets brainwashed, and Barbie is busy slutting it up with Ken. It’s a real mess.

Turns out, the purple bear had some life-altering horrible experience when he was younger, totally fucked up his mind, hence why he’s an evil douche now. Long story short, they try to escape, it doesn’t go so hot, they wind up at the toy incinerator (is this a real thing?) Couple aliens operating a crane save the day and Andy donates all his toys to some new chick down the street.

Moral of the story? I’m not really sure to be honest. Toys will get thrown out some day?

Just seemed kind of dark for a Toy Story flick, but then again they always toe the line between feel good story and tear-jerker. I remember when that pyro kid down the block tried to blow up buzz in the first Toy Story I cried for like three days straight. So I get it, but at the same time I don’t get it at all. The message the fine folks at Pixar are sending is A) toys are real, living creatures B) If you neglect them they’ll get super sad and C) If you lose a toy chances are it’ll turn into an evil control freak and start up a trail of tears camp at the nearby day care.

So bravo, Pixar. Hell of a sequel. Can’t wait for Toy Story 4: Zombie Toy Resurrection.

 

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Overreaction Wednesday: GNC – Hell on Earth

22 05 2013

GNC

Well it’s been about a month since the mime’s been in action, and for that I, your fearless mime leader, apologize sincerely. It’s clear that our once steadfast promise to deliver the most premium written entertainment daily is a distant memory. I feel kind of like the deadbeat dad from Angels in the Outfield. Like I know my kid needs me, but I’d rather huff glue with drifters and make hollow promises about being a good dad the day some shitty ball club wins the ship instead.

Now, that doesn’t mean I can’t stop by my son’s school once every blue moon and pretend like I care. So consider this post a quick deadbeat blogger drop in, I’ll probably yell at you for listening to your mother too much, chug a Natty Ice tall boy and chances are I haven’t showered in a few days.

Alright enough with the lousy comparisons, let’s dive right in. Today I had an experience some might call “traumatic”. An experience that left me pissed off enough to hop on the world wide web and vent to the universe. That experience, if you can’t tell by the clever title of this post, was a fifteen minute trip to GNC. Yo, JD, why are you going to GNC in the first place? Need fish oil vitamins for high blood pressure or what? Nope, my blood pressure is legit. Actually, I go there to occasionally purchase protein powder. Hardy, har, har, laugh it up all you want. Here’s the deal, I like to keep it tight and keep it right, so naturally, I pump iron a few times a week. I Figure, hey, if I’m hitting the weight stacks regularly, I might as well chug a few protein shakes too, keep things swoll. But my protein intake to lack of muscle ratio isn’t important. What is happens to be the location of where my protein purchases often happen – a magical place called GNC.

Place is by far the single worst retail shopping experience you can get. I alluded to it in my Occupy This posting from way back, but I felt like today is a good time to expand on my hatred. If you’ve visited a GNC store in your lifetime, surely you know EXACTLY what I’m talking about. Here’s how a shopping trip to hell typically goes:

1. You walk in. Chances are you’re the only customer and there can be anywhere from one to five employees waiting to pounce. If you somehow walk in unnoticed, do a victory dance and then sprint as fast as you can to what you want to purchase, throw a couple twenties on the counter and walk out. Don’t even bother getting change. Trust me.

2. An employee will ask you, “what brings you in today?” and usually end it with a “champ” or “bro” or “buddy” since they’re automatically your new personal nutritionist/best friend.

3. You’ll say, “Just grabbing some protein real quick” and will head directly towards where you think said protein is located.

4. Employee McTool will more than likely follow you and immediately critique the shit out of your selection…”Awww dude, we’ve got this new double whey mega blast powder that’s WAY FUCKING BETTER than what you’re looking at”.

5. If you’ve been there before you’ll probably shrug this comment off and head for the register. If you’re a GNC rookie you’re officially sucked in to the never ending selling vortex each GNC employee utilizes.

6. After what could wind up being an hour or two of running through all the “better deals” they have to offer you’ll head to the register to check out.

7. At this point you probably think you’re in the clear to pay and get the hell out of there. Noooo way, partner. Saddle up.

8. Cashier will ask you if you need any multivitamins, supplements, energy chews, omega 3 licorice ropes, hair softening breathmints, the list goes on and on.

9. You’ll say no, or maybe yes, depending on your exhaustion level and ability to comprehend each nutritional product.

10. They’ll start to ring you up…and STOP. Do you have a GNC gold card?

11. If you do, congrats, you better hope its the first week of the month or your gold card is useless. If you don’t, get ready to sign the fuck up for one.

12. You’ll sign up for your gold card. Chances are, its the 22nd of May and the card is useless, so you’ll pay for the fourteen items you suddenly realize you’re about to purchase.

13. Cashier will probably ask if you want to try one of the free mocha energy chew samples on the counter. Go ahead and try it, but be warned they taste like total ass.

14. Slide your debit card, sign your receipt and SPRINT TO YOUR CAR.

I wish some of that was an exaggeration, but unfortunately folks, it is not. At this point a number of you are probably thinking, JD if it sucks so much why don’t you go elsewhere? Or online? Good thought, reader. Problem is, I’m lazy and whenever I run out of protein, I scramble and go to the nearest shop which almost always happens to be a GNC. Plus, instead of waiting 5-7 business days for an online order, I like to drive there after work, because c’mon, my muscles can’t atrophy guys. My body is a temple, remember?

All in all, I think it’s safe to say GNC needs to switch up their methods. You’ve got damn near a monopoly on the nutritional supplements category, just ease off the suffocating sales pitches a little bit and I bet you’ll still do just fine. Oh and whatever SOP that says all employees must be muscular dickheads, yeah maybe burn that.

That’s all I got for this OW everyone.

Peace

JD





2 Broke TVs Thanks to 2 Broke Girls

21 04 2013

cbs-2011-2-broke-girls

Not sure if any mime compadres have been watching CBS’ fine primetime programming lately, but if you have and it happened to be a Monday, you probably stumbled upon a few seconds of the second season of their “hit” show, 2 Broke Girls. Then you probably cancelled your cable plan and spot welded your eyes shut. Sweet baby rays BBQ sauce that show is awful. As much as I hate to admit it, I watched about seven minutes of it a few weeks back and as far as I can tell, it’s hands down the worst show ever made.

Don’t get me wrong, there’ve been A LOT of awful sitcoms in American history. I could write a freaking dead sea scroll listing all the shows I’ve turned on and then immediately turned off, and I’m sure you can too. For every one good show, there’s like 76 others that were immediately cancelled. So I won’t bore you with mini-rants on garbage programming like Blind Justice. I’ll just cut to the chase and go off on our lousy show of the hour, 2 Broke Girls.

For those not familiar, I’ll provide a sample clip. Feel free to watch, but just know that you’ll probably light your computer on fire ten seconds in.

UHH. Shut it off for the LOVE OF GOD!

And listen, I get it…. hey JD if you hate it so much then just don’t watch it! Valid point captain Mcannoyingface, but here’s the thing you’re forgetting. I live at home with my folks. Ya boy doesn’t necessarily have control of the tube on a nightly basis. For example, just last week I was in the kitchen heating up a two slices of leftover meatloaf and overheard 2 Broke Girls on TV. Enough to make even the most mentally tough men fly off the handle.

Here’s the 411 on the show. It’s a sitcom that debuted in 2011 to the dismay of, I can assume, every person on planet earth. It’s about two chicks in their twenties who are waitresses and, wait for it, happen to be down on their luck and BROKE. One has always been poor and the other used to be rich but now she’s poor, or something like that. Apparently the show was created by Whitney Cummings. A chick who is usually moderately hilarious in Comedy Central roasts, so that was a surprise to me. It stars some relatively hot blonde chick and the kinda goth, ugly daughter from 40 Year Old Virgin. How she got a primetime show is beyond me. And what bugs me the most about her is she’s constantly guilty of the excessive lipstick use. Worst look out there. Gaudy burgundy lipstick. Woof. Not much else to say regarding the plot of the show, lot of obnoxious one liners and a bunch of craptastic acting.

Plus, to make matters worse, they just signed on for a third season! Thank the lord! Was worried I wouldn’t have a couple of incredibly annoying wise-cracking broads to brighten up my Monday nights any more. Wheew.

I really want to know who the hell watches this show? Like seriously, if you’re reading this and you also happen to watch 2 Broke Girls on a regular basis, let me know. Send us an email. Maybe a quick one or two paragraph rundown on why. I honestly want to meet you, maybe pick your brain for a bit, find out just how horrible your sense of humor could possibly be. Because I sit here and I can’t seem to think of one person on planet earth that would enjoy the program, yet it continues to get decent ratings. It won a friggin Emmy for christsake!

Just mind blowing stuff, folks. You know what, I’m going to completely switch up the tone of this post and go a head and give a big ol’ congrats to 2 Broke Girls. You’re somehow kicking TV ass. You suck so so much, but yet you don’t at the same time. And at the end of the day, I kind of have to respect that. It’s like I want to drive to CBS Studios in Cali and release a pack of moose on their set in the hopes they’ll never film another second of the show again, but at the same time I kinda want to find out their secret and get in on the scam too.

Way to go 2 Broke Girls, you have everyone here at the mime totally perplexed.

– JD





Saved By The ‘Piece

24 03 2013

themasterpiece

 

So last week I’m chillin when and I get a lil email from Kleinz 5-sev alerting me of some BIG breaking news. Ohh boy…what happened now, I wondered? Did we declare war on North Korea? Did Rihanna OD? Is Mighty Ducks 7: Quack in Black set to begin filming this summer? Nope, even better. A news story broke about former WWE star Chris “The Masterpiece” Masters saving his Mom from a burning house.

Stunned, I threw my can of Fresca at the wall and I wasn’t even drinking Fresca.

Could it be? Another WWE star proving to society that they ARE super heroes, even when not under the glimmering lights of Monday Night RAW? For those of you that forgot, a mere few months ago former WWE legend Daivari choke slammed some hobo on the Light Rail in Minneapolis, saving the entire train packed with people. An inspiring story, no doubt, but for a huge wrestling fan like myself, not in the least surprising. These guys have a civil duty to kick ass and take names when trouble is a-brewin. So, when I heard that Chris Masters saved his mom from a burning house, after I tossed an imaginary can of Fresca at my mom’s potted plant, I relaxed and thought to myself, “hell yeah, Masterpiece. Show that fire who’s boss”. It’s true. I did think that.

Before I dive into the details on this feel good story, a little background on The Masterpiece. If you’re not familiar with him, know this. Dude embodies his name like you wouldn’t believe. Like there’s jacked and then there’s unbelievably Chris Masters swoll. Straight muscle city all up in everyone’s grill. Pretty sure he got kicked out of the WWE for extensive steroid abuse, but that’s not the point. He’s cut up, y’all. His signature move was the master lock, an unbeatable full-nelson. Last I checked, nobody ever escaped from the master lock…ALIVE. He was an unstoppable force. Now, let’s rewind to freshman year of high school. JD Mcgridds was a huge WWE fan and coincidentally, a bit of a masterpiece himself. I don’t want to brag, but I was as swoll as swoll gets. Pumpin iron all day erey day will do that to ya. So when halloween rolled around I figured it only made sense for me to go as The Masterpiece. I’d be doing myself a disservice if I didn’t. Here’s a lil sneak peek:

WWE Studs

 

I’m second up on the left. You know, the sexiest guy in the shot.

So anyways, me and the ‘piece go WAY back.

Now to the matter at hand, his heroic saving of his mother from a fiery inferno. Here’s what went down, and if I were you I’d buckle up. This one’s a wild one. Apparently his mother’s neighbor was going crazy and had barricaded himself inside mama masterpiece’s house threatening to burn it down. When The Piece showed up, he did just that. Now at this point in the story things normally turn tragic. Not here, friends. Chris Masters sprung into action. According to the police report he “uprooted a tree with his bare hands and used it as a battering ram to enter the house”. He tossed the tree through a window, hopped through the window, grabbed his dear ma and carried her to safety. Seconds later police rushed in and arrested the crazy neighbor on arson charges.

HO-LY shiznit.

No big deal, just heading over to my mom’s for dinner on a Sunday night…la dee daaa, oh shit! Her neighbor just set the house on fire! No time to call the fire department….what. to. do…How about I uproot this mighty oak, throw it through the window and save my mom, old school style? Boom. Done.

Just a brilliant move by a brilliant athlete. Years and years of extensive training/HGH injections finally pays off. Normal folks like you and I probably would’ve cried in the fetal position while our mother burned alive inside. Not Chris. Dude acted quicker than John Goodman asks for a desert menu at The Cheesecake Factory and saved the mother effing day.

Bravo, Chris Masters. Bravo. We at the mime salute you.

– JD





WTF Red Tide? Leave Dem Manatees Alone.

12 03 2013

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First of all, not sure if you cats know this or not but manatees are the best. Straight up, they’re the coolest creatures on earf. Pretty sure god was all, “damn, I almost forgot to make the coolest animal, that was silly of me! Boom, here ya go world, I give you the manatee” right before he rested on the seventh day. They’re gentle giants, they munch on lettuce all day and kick it in the warm tropical waters AND they’re fuzzy as hell. I’d pay at least 1 trillion yen to be BFFs with a manatee.

So when I heard the news that some crazy algae bloom of the coast of florida is killing my favorite water dwelling mammal by the truckloads, I was pretty pissed. If you don’t follow the latest marine biology news, check out the story here and get a clue, dude. Marine bio is where all the action is at.

Back to the matter at hand. What gives, algae? What’d the manatees ever do to you besides slowly float alongside you in HARMONY? Maybe refrain from eating you because they’re into other foods? Maybe invite you to their sea party on occasion because they felt bad nobody likes you? Nothing, that’s what.  Sounds like a pretty selfish move, dog.

If you want to get all scientific, here’s what’s actually happening. Apparently, these algae blooms, which are NOT caused by pollution, happen every year and usually only last a week. This year, they’re lingering around like my sorta-buddy ralph on Sunday morning when he should probably just get the eff out and let me masturbate, but he doesn’t. They live in the sea grass and turn the water a brownish red, hence the name red tide. The manatees eat this sea grass, filled with toxins, and then they die.

Tough story to read, I know. Take a couple minutes to grab a kleenex or two, I’ll wait to finish. There ya go…cry it out. Alright. We good?

Now, my sources are telling me 174 manatees have died so far. Sounds to me like a full out epidemic yo. Plus last time I checked, manatees are on the endangered species list. I don’t know the official numbers, since I lost my copy of the 2010 manatee census last week, but I’d guess there are about 300 manatees in the world. Carry the four…That means we have like 176 manatees left, people! Shit. Not good.

I’m not sure how to combat this red tide, but here’s what I’m thinking. Let’s get a boat and sail down to Florida and start saving manatees. If they all die off, who’s gonna chill in the water anymore? Sharks? Fish? They both suck. Stay tuned for the official mime save the manatees donation drop box. Don’t worry, it’s legit. We’re totally not gonna use your donations to buy Skittles mega packs at Sam’s Club.

– JD





Arthur’s Crew

4 03 2013

Originally I drafted this one up the day after new years. As you can tell, my spirits were at an all time low. Since it’s officially march and spring is right around the river bend I figured ehhh, what the H, let’s bitch about a harmless childhood cartoon for a few minutes. So here it is, guys, the source of my beef with Arthur.

The winter might be dragging on longer than we all can handle, but luckily the mime is here to put it in perspective.

Think filing 401K plans at your administrative assistant job at a recycling plant this morning was rough? Feeling like your liver is going to fail at any moment you drank so much Cooks champagne two nights ago? Depressed because literally every single person besides you from your high school class got engaged last month? Even that dickhead Mitch? Well calm down lead singer of Bullet For My Valentine. Don’t slit your wrists yet. At least you’re  not Arthur.

Remember Arthur? If you don’t you should. Guy had it rough. At this point you’re thinking, J to the D, Arthur was a boss. His life ruled. I’d trade my life as a barback at Chili’s with a talking aardvark with glasses any day of the week. Think again partner. Let me break Arthur’s life down for you. And don’t you dare stop reading. This post has got some serious potential.

Arthur

Arthur

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He’s eight year old Aardvark who’s in third grade. His hobbies include playing the piano, reading and riding his bike. Dude rocks a yellow sweater and some big ass bi-focals every single day of his life. He does have a dog, but he named it Pal, so that’s kind of gay. Given the glasses and that he likes reading, we can assume he’s a huge nerd. I think those are Jordan V’s but I’m not sure. So he might be good at basketball, but I wouldn’t count on it.

As you can see, Arthur gets a pass. He’s the main character of a TV show so he’s kind of a big deal. And he’s a decent dude through and through. However the real problem lies in the friends he hangs with. They say judge a man by the company he keeps, well I say judge the shit out of an aardvark by the lame ass crew he rolls with.

D.W.

Dw_picture

Some of you might’ve read my article a while back about TV sisters and they’re bitch-tastic nature. Well I’m feeling pretty silly right now that I forgot to include DW. Chick was the worst. Over dramatic, self centered and very likely to throw a tantrum at any time. I’m no baseball umpire but that sounds to me like strikes one, two and three.

Buster

Buster

Buster is the one exception here. Dude was the tits. I’m honestly real surprised he rolled with Arthur at all. Guy had it all. Sick threads, big ol bunny ears I guarantee the ladies loved, a baller sense of humor, and he’s a stud on the softball field. If I remember right he was also a slacker in school. Cool kid no questions asked. Then again he was BFFs with Arthur so maybe he wasn’t that cool. Plus his folks got a divorce and you can bet your ass it was 100% ALL Buster’s fault.

Francine

francine

Francine was a stone cold biznatch. Plus she looked just like that lady ape that wants to plow Marky Mark in 2001’s Planet Of The Apes. Maybe because they’re both monkeys. Whatever. The point is Francine consistently dragged Arthur’s crew down. Always bossing them around, trying too hard to be one of the guys. We get it Francine, you’re a closet lesbo. Go munch on some box already and leave Arthur alone.

Muffy

Muffy

First off, killer name brah. You might be the richest monkey in Elwood City but don’t forget you’re named after pubes. Muffy was a total pain in the ass. Basically the Jackie from That 70’s Show of Arthur. Sure she’s hot, but she’s also impossible to spend 5 minutes with without contemplating suicide.

The Brain

The Brain

Brain is that one guy that everybody likes but deep down they actually hate because they’re jealous of him. Smart as hell, athletic as shit, humble, polite, celebrates fucking Kwanzaa and most certainly has a python for a dong. He’s almost too nice. Always helping people and listening to peoples problems. Hey Brain, quit the charade, brocif. We all know you’re a egomaniacal douche deep down.  Let loose.

Binky

Binky

Not sure exactly what type of animal Binky is, looks to be some sort of ogre. All I remember is he repeated the third grade. Sucker move right there. Sucks to have such a monstrous head and such a tiny brain. Clearly in Arthur’s crew for protection but it’s tough to be Arthur’s muscle when you’re busy being a queer playing the clarinet.

See what I mean folks? Brutal crew. If you ask me, Arthur’s gotta shed the dead weight and pick some cooler friends. Maybe some hotter chicks, a black dude or two and you’ve gotta have one Asian. For math help and what not.

Anybody read that entire post? Thanks. Feels good to know somebody’s still interested in a TV show we watched 18 years ago.

Alright, enough of that. My new years resolution is to not write stupid shit on the internet for christsake. Guess that lasted all of 28 hours.

– JD





Dennis Rodman BFF’s with Kim Jung-Un?

3 03 2013

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Sup y’all?

I know, I know, it’s been like seven years since I’ve dropped knowledge on the mime. As I said a few months ago, I’ve been busy lately. Get off my back. What’s that old saying again? Ain’t no blog like a off duty mime blog cuz an off duty mime blog don’t stop. Yup. That’s the one.

Alright, let’s get right back into it.

By now all our readers should know I consider myself a bit of renaissance man. It’s no mystery I like to frequently diversify my hobbies and interests portfolio. Earlier today I figured I’d brush up on our country’s foreign relations. Find out how we’re doing with the rest of the world. Make sure they know we still run shit.

Turns out today was about the perfect day to check in. Why you ask? Well I don’t want to alarm any of you, but between you and me, our international relations ain’t doin so hot. Especially in Asia. Aside from our well known love for all types of asian food, I think Asia thinks we hate them (not entirely untrue, AMIRIGHT?). I mean, gone are the days when G dub-ya rolled over to China, tossed out a couple laughs and forgets which door he came in, and everything was gravy. Kim Jong Il is dead, his chubby/even more psycho son took his place and we got nuke threats being thrown around like a rubber dildo at Andersen Cooper’s summer BBQ.

Lucky for us, we’ve still got Dennis Rodman.

At this point most of you are thinking, wait he’s still alive? Or if you knew he was still alive, you’re thinking, wait who is Dennis Rodman again? Let me tell you. Dennis is the greatest rebounder to ever play in the NBA/the craziest person to ever play in the NBA. He also happens to be BFF’s with Kim Jong-Un.

Yep. It’s true. Read all about it here.

No joke, The Worm is the first American to meet Kim Jong-Un. Apparently they watched basketball together, went ice skating, crushed drinks and dinner and even hit up an aquarium. Sounds like a good ass day to me. Matter of fact, it sounds like the best day ever. If my day includes any one of those four activities I’m overachieving. Imagine all four. With Dennis Rodman. I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t blast in my shorts with excitement.

Personally, I can’t think of a better diplomat to represent our country than The Worm. Sure, he’s a mentally unstable addict who’s relapsed more times than Adele has completed the 70 oz challenge at the Ponderosa steak house. But I see all that as a good thing. First of all, I didn’t realize Kim Jung Un was old enough to even know who Dennis Rodman is. Thought he was like 16 years old. Well, it turns out he’s like 30. So, if he ever had a chance to watch the NBA on NBC in between military rallies organized by his diminutive father he probably caught the Worm in action. This means on top of being a huge fan, he has to realize no matter what, you don’t fuck with Dennis Rodman. Never. EVER. Because he’ll literally eat you. He’ll toss you on his XL George Foreman and grill you up before you can ask for an autograph.

You’ve also got to assume the Rod Man has drugs on him at all times. Thus, you can bet your ass he whipped out a couple bumps of ketamine for the two to snort before they discussed this underground nuclear testing that’s been going on. I’d guess it loosened up those tiny chubby shoulders of Kim Jong Un, got him to start talking from the heart. Probably doesn’t even know what nukes are. Probably just wanted to talk about Hello Kitty and anime.

And that brings me to my last point, we all know Dennis Rodman doesn’t give two fucks about politics. Guy rocked a money suit to his interview on ABC. He’s more concerned with Polly’s tits than politics. See what I did there? We’re assuming Polly is his hooker from last night. Anyways. Kim has never met an American before. This was his first time, folks. He was probably nervous as shit. Can’t throw some stuffy policital dickhead at him, he’ll freak out and put his guard up. Better to toss a washed up booze hound basketball player in the mix. Someone he can connect with. Confide in. Maybe swap foot fetish stories with, I don’t know.

All in all, I think our relationship with North Korea is still way beyond fucked. But, thanks to Mr. Rodman taking Kim Jong Un on a fun filled day at Sea World, we’re one step closer to being best friends. And now we know all it takes is retired NBA players with drug problems to win him over. And you’re out of your damn mind if you don’t think I’m already hoping Charles Barkley is the next guy to go over there.

– JD