Well, I made my first descent into the disaster that is the annual Philly Film Festival last night. The collection of short films I saw was called “The Philadelphia Experimental”. I thought that perhaps a more apt title would have been “The Philadelphia Sucksperimental”. Apparently, by it’s very definition, an experimental film is one that is absolutely awful. There was one, called “Lovebirds in Hell”, that looked like something my sister might have done when she was 13, if she had possessed a smaller brain and absolutely no sense of creativity. It was these two girls smoking a cigarette, looking forlorn, and then one of them goes to a corner and begins pouting. “Yibadee, yibadee, yibadee, uh, That’s all Folks!” Then there was one in which a bike messenger rides on a carless street, and a sign comes up, saying “Imagine a world with no cars”. Yeah, well if there were no cars, there would be no road for the stupid bike messenger to ride on! I felt like I was watching a bad Mitsubishi commercial. Then, there was one in which a bunch of asian women are swimming in a pool. About halfway through this film, I found myself staring at the exit sign on the door, because it was infinitely more interesting than what was on the screen. Oh, and apparently this film was supposed to represent French colonialism. Could someone take the pseudo intellectual who came up with this bulls*** outside and beat the living s*** out of him? Thanks.
Which leads us to my restaurant idea. I was dining at a snooty establishment yesterday (that’s what we stars do), and some mean old lady came up the waiter. Instead of saying, “Excuse me, but you accidentally brought the wrong check to our table,” she barks, “Sir, you brought the wrong CHECK TO OUR TABLE!” Which leads me to my idea. I think the restaurants should hire an independant contractor, and when some rotten jerk treats a waiter like a subhuman, that waiter calls our contractor friend. The hired gun then walks into the restaurant, walks over to the offender (in this case the rotten old lady), and slugs them right in the face. He then turns around, says “Anybody else got a problem with their check?” and walks out after collecting his $20 for services rendered. You people who have never worked in the restaurant business are thinking, “My goodness, Bobby Badtimes is advocating the punching of old women in the face. He’s lost his mind.” While those of you who have worked in the business are thinking, “That Bobby Badtimes is a f****** genius.”
Oh, and just you wait until you see Johnny’s new facial hair. He looks kind of like what Johnny Depp would look like…if Depp were really ugly.
Apparently somebody told the Phillies bullpen the same thing they told the directors of the short films I saw last night: Sucking is kool! I would honestly rather have those Asian swimmers protesting French colonialism in our bullpen right now than this group of clowns.
My name is Bobby Badtimes, and you just got Pittsnogled!