Everything Judd Apatow touches turns into hilarious magic. In this fake outtake from his new film Knocked Up, Michael Cera loses the gig that went to Seth Rogen.
In other funny videos from comedy supergeniuses news, check out Bob Odenkirk’s Derek & Simon. There are two versions of each video, one with beeps for old ladies with delicate sensibilities and the other for fans of the bawdy and lewd. And it involves a Freaks and Geeks alum too; Busy Philipps is in the most recent Derek & Simon clip.
And hey assholes! Jay Johnston has crap up on Super Deluxe too! Check it out.
UPDATE: Holy shitballs! I neglected to mention Michael Cera has his own hilarious web-o-show, Clark and Michael.
I’m not claiming that I’m not part of the problem. I thought up this cartoon while driving to the Arlington Trader Joe’s. The Cambridge one is just too much of a hassle to drive to. But in my defense, I can stretch $2 worth of Indian fare into three meals.
In related movie news, Jen has an excellent take on this summer’s blockbusters. I’d call them “shitbusters” if I were a retarded wordsmith. Contrary to most other people in the world, I kinda liked Spiderman 3. They should’ve eliminated Sandman and just focused on Eddie Brock/Venom and New Goblin. But if you didn’t like the kitschy “Bad Spidey” scenes, you don’t know Sam Raimi. Evil Dead is all about kitsch! Embrace it! YAWN! I just gave myself a nerd coma.
Graphically-inclined observers will notice this is the first time I’ve used gradients in a cartoon. Why the delay? I’m dumb. Being self-taught at this illustration jazz means I have very little incentive to learn and try new things. I had fun putting this together. I’ll try to include more stuff like this in between my more wordier and “thinkier” cartoons.
Congratulations to John Reeve, who won the BFW Theme Song Contest! His winning entry is below.
If there’s ever a BFW animated series, he’s got dibs on the theme song. For real!
Next Week: Christ, I have no idea. So now you know it’ll be half-assed!
Watch Flight of the Conchords.
These magnificent bastards are funny fellows. To let them know how much I love them, I just might steal HBO the old-fashioned way to watch these two cool dudes.
However, I’m no fashion diva, but Bret totally stole my style! Since they’re from New Zealand, perhaps it’s a case of convergent evolution, or convergent evolutionium as they say on their enchanted island of whimsy and magic.
As a short person, I do not endorse this bill. I’ll change my mind if it requires clothing in my size to be moved to the men’s section and out of the boys’ department. I’ve never experienced height discrimination, but should this pass, I’m going to call every alt-weekly editor who refuses to run Big Fat Whale a heightist.
It’s prom season, right? Or is that June? I figured I’d do this now just in case. And yes, I remember those segregated proms somewhere in the South a few years back. I’m no fashion expert but here’s a theory I’ve been working on: Fatties = cumberbuns; skinnies = vests. It’s an established fact that buttons are a fatty’s mortal enemy.
Next Week: This summer’s totally made-up blockbuster. (Shh! Blobs are involved!)
I avoid bringing up Red Sox talk for a variety of reasons. Firstly, I am aware it is totally meaningless. Secondly, most of you are from parts of the word where a ball being hit by a stick by some rich asshole isn’t the center of the universe. Thirdly, it invites a lot of mouth-breathing douches named Murph and Sully to think I have something in common with them. (I don’t. You’ah fuckin’ boring muthafuckas. Also, that girl from Lynn you’re hitting on probably has herpes.)
But alas, for some inexplicable reason, I am quite fond of the olde towne team. The past month and a half has been magnifico. I’ve been around long enough to know things will turn to shit soon enough, so I’m going to gloat now before Craig can shit on me once the Yankees lay on the money bags.
Unrelated, but Craig has a genuine, authentic photo of a Johns Hopkins Rape Whistle from our freshman year orientation fun bucket on his site. That whistle taught me that while rape is never funny, rape-prevention-related accessories can be.
Since these fine folks already beat me to commenting on Falwell’s demise, I have nothing to add; except what I believe to be a somewhat clever title. I thought about thumbing through the local obituaries and trying to find a less prominent shithead to shine my little blog-light on, but was pooped after lugging three air conditioners to BFW HQ, also known as Sweatbox 3000.
And since I’m a lazy asshole today, I’ll once again point you to Greg’s blog, where you can see a Big Fat Whale shirt in action on some dopey turd’s torso. Buy one and be a dopey turd too!
This was originally supposed to be a parody of Elmer Fudd. Dobbs would hunt the immigrants, and they’d escape with Bugs or Daffy-like shenanigans. At least for me, it couldn’t really work in a comic strip with a very limited number of panels.
There’s just one week until my dumb contest ends. Get crackin’!
Next Week: Prom Themes of the Damned
Since Greg and I didn’t know about last weekend’s Somerville Open Studios until it was over, here’s a glimpse at next week’s cartoon being thunked-up at BFW headquarters. We’ll participate next year.
A series of events led to the idea of The Hirsute Bopper popping around my head for a week. And as those of you who’ve had the misfortune of listening to me pitch comedy ideas know, I love jug bands as a comedic premise. It’s a result of my profound fondness for Emmet Otter’s Jug Band Christmas. Hence those two jokes. I have no real opinion about the six other panels.
Next Week: Lou Dobbs hunts down those wascally immigwants.