Film Events

Look. You have your opinions? And I have mine. HOWEVER! It must be stated – and you're probably already well aware of the fact – that my opinion carries a weeeeeee bit more weight than yours. DON'T GET MAD! It's not your fault that your views of the world are somewhat less important than the donkey crap that regularly spews from my cakehole. See… here's the thing: I have a nationally renowned television column, while you… ummm, how do I put this… DON'T. But like I said: not your fault. You spent your youth and college years studying “books” and filling your head with… goddamnit, what's the word? Oh yeah… “knowledge.” Me, I chose a different path.
You see, I decided at an early age to eschew the responsibilities of adulthood and spend every waking moment sprawled on a filthy couch wearing nothing but soiled underpants, eating countless bags of Fritos, and endlessly clicking the “channel up” button on my remote. While certainly unorthodox, this decision eventually secured me employment in the only industry where such reckless disregard is actually encouraged: TV criticism.

Though one might think my sole talent is “monkey and poop jokes,” I'll have you know I'm actually extremely talented in one other area: ACTING!! Before I became America's most un-beloved TV columnist, I was a practitioner of the THE-UH-TAH. (That's “theater” for those who don't speak “annoying.”) What roles did I play? WELL! Ever heard of a little play called Hamlet? Me, neither. Sounds dumb and boring. HOWEVER! I have auditioned for many of the great community THE-UH-TAHS, and once came very close to scoring the role of Eva Peron in the Dubuque Little Theater production of Evita. Ahhh… I remember the audition like it was yesterday… (INSERT WAVEY “DREAM” LINES HERE.)
I walked onto the empty stage and faced the musical's director, producer, and pianist. Clearing my throat I announced, “I am Wm.™ Steven Hump-Me, and I am here to play… EVITA!” (I did that last part with an elaborate hand flourish.) Apparently I'd yet to impress them, because I heard the director mumble, “Okay, Mister… 'Hump-Me,' was it? Let's start with a song. Do you need accompaniment?” “Ohhhhhh, no, no, no, no, NO!” I laughed. “I brought my own!” And running off stage, I returned wearing a huge marching band bass drum, which I began loudly banging while skipping around the stage singing, “I feeel pretty! OH! So pretty! I feeeel pretty and witty and GAAAAAAY! And I pity… .”

I do not outwardly dislike old people. This is because when I do outwardly dislike them, they tend to shake their walkers at me, accuse me of being “ageist,” and then wander off, forgetting what they were yelling at me about in the first place.
HOWEVER! I do outwardly like certain old people, such as Betty White – one of the original Golden Girls, who just so happens to be turning a peppy 90-years-young this week. Why do I prefer Ms. White over other nonagenarians? Well, for one, she's never squirted her colostomy bag at me during an argument. And secondly, Golden Girls! And The Mary Tyler Moore Show! And of course her greatest role, as the potty-mouthed old lady Mrs. Bickerman in the 1999 man-eating crocodile horror flick Lake Placid, in which she utters the two greatest lines of cinematic history: “If I had a dick, this is where I would tell you to suck it,” and “Thank you, officer fuck meat.”

Welcome to 2012 – and I've got another New Years' resolution all ready to add to your list. I think you need to do a better job at expressing affection – primarily towards me. This can be accomplished in a number of ways: 1) Erotic poetry and/or fan fiction. Send me more erotic poetry, or if you have trouble rhyming, simply write some lengthy erotic fan fiction involving me dry boning a historical character. Here's a sample from my erotic fan fiction novel entitled, Got a Hankerin' for Ben Frank-er-lin:
“Ben Franklin felt lonely as he stepped out of the shower. Rubbing the rough towel over his moist naked body, he was struck by the realization he hadn't felt the soft caressing touch of a lover since that cold, cold winter he dry boned Betsy Ross. Suddenly… the bathroom door flew open. It was Wm.™ Steven Humphrey dressed as a British Redcoat! “Ha-Haaa!” Humphrey noisily purred, his bulging groin pulsating with sexual intent. 'Me thinks a certain founding father is in need of a patriotic dry boning!'”

Here are some things I said in 2011. Providing “context” doesn't really help my case.
On Batman:
Attaching a cape to a cowl is the stupidest thing ever. One step on your cape, and NECK SNAP! Stephen Hawking's teaching you how to use your fancy new wheelchair.
On I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant:
It's filled with dramatic re-creations of women who had no earthly idea they were preggo, until one day, whoopsie! Plop! Heyyyyy… why is my toilet crying?

[Hey person reading this! I'm on vacation this week… so here's a classic holiday edition of I Love Television™ to stick in your stocking. And by “stocking” I mean “anus.” Happy holidays! – Humpy]
ATTENTION: There are serious problems with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Therefore I will elucidate on those problems (and how they can be corrected) in three… two… one… GO!