Well, don’t read if you’re not caught up, cause this guy has some hot takes for the final season of Game of Thrones…when it comes out in two damn years. Sigh. Anyhoo, everyone has their fan theories, balancing the book vs. the show. ALL WRONG. Here’s what to expect.
Possible spoilers, but if you’ve read this far, you’re either caught up or never will be.
- Arya makes a dragon mask and kills the Night King. Didn’t see that fake dragon coming, did you?
- The wall was fake, like the one from the Road Runner and the Night King smacks into the real one full speed when it looks like a train tunnel, blames ACME for the mishap.
- The Mountain is actually Kane from WWE fame and the Hound is actually the Undertaker. What a matchup we are in for!
- The next death associated with Game of Thrones is the person that says to me, “It was good at first, but one episode didn’t strike me as ground breaking so I crap all over it now.”
- Cersei Lannister gives birth to Ramsay Bolton’s bastard, creating the most hated person in television history.
- Since winter is here, not coming, the Starks have a vote for a new motto. “Who let the dogs out?!” wins and no one is happy about it.
- Hodor the undead makes his debut and everyone is the saddest they’ve ever been.
- George R.R. Martin is still complaining in interviews that people want another book too quickly, then writes three pages in 2 years.
- The writers remember the Jon Snow’s direwolf Ghost again (oh, that’s right, we forgot all about him). GIVE ME MORE GHOST!
- I spend the next two years or however long it is complaining that Game of Thrones isn’t here yet.
I will go on record and say only 2-3 of these will actually happen, but in all seriousness, start filming please.
This past weekend I went to defend my hard fought title at the Quiz Box (4th Friday every month at the Backstage Bistro – shameless plug in first sentence). I am happy to announce that I was able to overcome a ferocious competition to win. The first time, I won largely on my correct answers; this time more my humor. So I getting dumber, but possibly funnier. I don’t know how I feel about that.
It was a great show and a ton of fun, plus co-host and world famous scorekeeper Nickey Winkelman managed to reveal her pregnancy via an Erik Tait question. It was quite the surprise (good surprise, not oh crap I’m pregnant bad surprise) and made a show no one will forget. It may have pushed me out of the limelight just a bit, but hey, I’m used to it. When you’re single, people ask, “What’s new with you?” Married? “How’s your wife?
Kids? “How are your kids?” Then, “How’s your wife doing?” Part of the routine, plus apparently, people care about boxing again to two minutes, so ESPN didn’t even cover my moment either. Stupid Mayweather/McGregor. Anyhoo, we took a picture afterwards.
SEE WHAT YOU MISS WHEN YOU STAY AT HOME AND MISS MY SHOWS? CHAMPIONSHIP DEFENSES AND PREGGERS NEWS! HOW MUCH DID YOU PAY TO WATCH FLOYD MAYWEATHER? DID HE GET PREGGERS? NO? THEN YOU DONE MESSED UP SON. (That came off aggressive. Good.)
HGTV is a staple of most homeowner’s TV choices. Not a fan, usually. Modernize the kitchen? Blah. Landscaping? Who cares. Here’s some things that HGTV could put out that would grab my attention.
How to install a trap door for door to door salesmen and people with petitions.
How to put a pirate ship mast with a crow’s nest for using your spyglass to find the ice cream truck man from far away on top of your place.
Building a Batcave by using your natural surroundings to mask the entrance.
Brewing beer in five easy steps – and where to find the materials. Lowe’s and Home Depot aren’t much help for this.
Putting a pizza oven in your kitchen. Shove your granite countertops; I want oven fresh pizza and I want it now.
Constructing siege engines and gun turrets. Your birdhouse is lame; I want catapults and trebuchets in case it goes down.
Heated floors are nice, but what about cooling furniture/beds? Come on HGTV, help me out here.
That should do it for now, but I have to switch over the nature channels for how to raise bald eagles, so keep in mind how to build eagle’s eyries, HGTV. I’ll be back.
I was driving through a parking lot with my family this weekend and pulled near to a restaurant. Suddenly, like a magnet, my eyes were drawn to a band of white around a man’s waist. He was probably about 60, wearing a plain gray t-shirt, which was completely tucked into his bright, white underwear…which was pulled up over his belt loop by several inches.
My brain became jammed, oh the jokes and thoughts. This is probably a guy who complained about black youths “moping” just a decade ago. I wondered what got him to this lowly state, then I realized just as quickly his wife was walking with him. That means this behavior has been going on for years, if not decades, and she has either suffered it or let it happen. I wasn’t sure whether to call some authority figures or blame her to allowing this man to walk around in public like this. I called out to my wife to look and she began laughing. It was all fun and games until I realized I FORGOT TO TAKE A PICTURE OF HIM!!!
I yelled, “Hope! Take his picture!” She said, “Gracie has my phone watching Elmo.” DAMN YOU ELMO! I fumbled to dig out the phone, but alas, he was between two cars and out of sight. I blew it. Shame and regret washed over me and the moment was gone. I think a little piece of me died this weekend.
I get reminded of this story from time to time, especially after this past weekend, so I thought I would share. When I was in college, which was about 1500 students in a town the same size, we found out the Ku Kluk Klan was coming to town to stage a public demonstration. It was a buzz topic, but no one really knew the details, since the internet was pretty young (I’m not, if you can’t tell by that sentence). Me and a couple pals had to make a beer run and we saw it firsthand.
I hope you’re sitting down. It was three people. It was pathetic. There was someone in a hood, a teenager and a fat guy with the front face part of the hood flipped up. I remember him well, he was close and had a porn stache and glasses, with stubble on his double chin. I didn’t even know those hoods flipped up, quite frankly. They must have some mad skills in sewing. It appeared they were passing out literature or collecting money; it’s hard to say.
Well, I’m very ashamed to admit this, but my buddy and I contributed to their cause. We grabbed handfuls of change and I yelled, “Have some pennies, fat boy!” and chucked a wad of change at him. He turned sideways and threw his hands up as the copper pelted him. My pals yelled obscenities and we kept driving. There was a vigorous discussion about what else we could throw at them, but we were broke college kids and quite frankly, needed that money back to afford to buy anything else to throw at them from the UDF. We drove back by, but they had moved back off the main road. We lobbed some more comments and they never came back to town the rest of the time I was there.
The title is a bold statement, you may think, but I’ll explain. Assholes are easy to spot. They give themselves away. In comedy, they’re the loud drunk hecklers that get tossed. In life, you hear them speak and instantly know you don’t have to care anymore. We all like nice people…until they cross over into obnoxious nice. Then they’re worse.
I was eating with my family and my wife asked that I get her a refill. The line was fairly lengthy and I was finally up next. A balding man walked up to the teenager behind the register. “I was going to order, but I thought I would ask your opinion, since you’re the expert!” Teenager looked confused, as most do. “Um. Our chicken sandwich is very popular.” Now I knew this, since we were at Chik-Fil-A, and 95% of their entree options are chicken sandwiches and I have a semi-functioning brain. Baldy then began inquiring about how pimpleface liked his prepared. He then started asking about how their work flow was executed and how he liked working there. I began to surmise he was Charlie Chik-Fil-A and this was Undercover Boss or he was trying to be friendly and conversational. The latter is all well and good until I’ve been in line for five minutes devising ways to kill with items from the condiment station for wasting my precious time. (Maybe if I hit him over the head with the Mayo tray, it will stun him long him enough to plunge a spork into his neck…)
The coup de grace was as an even younger and more pimpled teen walked past the register to clean up after an angry three year old, he shouted, “Hey! Make sure you’re smiling!” The kid smiled and then rolled a mop bucket to the disaster zone formerly occupied by toddlers. I almost dunked the guy’s head in the bucket on principle. “NO ONE HERE IS YOUR FRIEND, FRIEND! ORDER A STUPID CHICKEN SANDWICH AND MOVE IT BEFORE I DEEP FRY YOUR ASS!” You also may have noticed at this point, I’m an asshole, but at least I keep the line moving. I think I just found my epitaph.