No caption needed.

No caption needed.

There are bad movie sequels. And then there are sequels so bad that they diminsh the good films in the series that came before them. Co-hostess Eva and I discuss the worst of the worst, wade into the Confederate flag debate, talk gay marriage and mourn my imminent death as I prepare to spend the rest of my day at Virginia’s finest amusement park, Kings Dominion.

Click here to listen to the episode in your browser window. Click here to listen using iTunes, where you can also subscribe to the show and leave feedback on the show, which helps our iTunes ranking and will get us rich and powerful. And mobile users click here to listen and subscribe via the Stitcher app.

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Please Don’t Let Terminator Genisys Suck

by John Papa on June 30, 2015

Definitely pissed more than one bed sheet having nightmares of this visage as a kid.

Definitely pissed more than one bed sheet having nightmares of this visage as a kid.

My normal movie article schtick is to review a film without having seen it, usually taking a crap on the production from a safe distance. But not today. Today, I am here to beseech the movie gods with a humble request: Please don’t let Terminator Genisys suck.

I adore the Terminator film franchise (which, like everyone else, means I loved the first two films and have kinda ignored everything afterward). The Terminator was one of the first R-rated films I was allowed to see. (I spent the better part of my childhood thinking all sex involved a lot of hand grabbing and piano music thanks to this scene-start at 3:43). Terminator 2 was my first R-rated theater experience, a movie I had been whipped into a frenzy for via MTV‘s five-times-a-day airings of Guns N’ Roses “You Could Be Mine”. These were films that, if you could properly recollect them on the playground, you were one of the cool kids. And if you couldn’t, well, go back to your mother’s teat and Beauty and the Beast, sissy.

After those two films (which marked the end of director James Cameron’s involvement), the wheels began to fall off the franchise. Terminator 3: Rise of the Machines was a pleasant-if-forgettable experience (if you think that’s praise, imagine how you’d feel if a woman you just slept with characterized your performance that way). The most important thing The Sarah Connor Chronicles did was make me realize I’ll probably have sex with robots as soon as they perfect the technology. And I’ve suppressed the memory of Terminator Salvation like it was a Catholic priest that had its wicked way with me.

Which brings us to the Wednesday release of Terminator Genisys. After the last two Terminator flicks, I have purposely avoided watching previews for the film and am trying to keep my distance from any reviews. I’m going to go see it in theaters because I have some warped notion after a childhood spent idolizing him that Arnold Schwarzenegger needs my support and I must help the movie get to number one at the box office. You know, win one for the Gipper, if the Gipper had a thick Teutonic accent and impregnated his Latina maid. Is it going to stink? Who knows. But I’ll be there. Hoping for a miracle. And, if it’s good…maybe I’ll be back. (You have my permission to send a cyborg to murder me for that one.)

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With Ruby Rose sexing up Season Three of Orange Is The New Black, lets take the time to remember that the real Alex Vause, Cleary Wolters, looks like a much heavier Buzz Burbank.

With Ruby Rose sexing up Season Three of Orange Is The New Black, lets take the time to remember that the real Alex Vause, Cleary Wolters, looks like a much heavier Buzz Burbank.

I don’t have much that brings me joy in life. TV is high on the list of things I do enjoy, though (carpe diem!). So I was excited about the release of Orange Is The New Black‘s third season. Until I watched it. Hear all about why it stank on ice, why living in the DC area reminds me of Dune and how hilariously co-hostess Eva butchered the name of Jeff Goldblum on the latest Papa’s Basement Show. And please take the FIVE HOURS IT DEMANDS TO LEAVE A REVIEW FOR A SHOW ON ITUNES BECAUSE APPLE IS HORRIBLY USER-UNFRIENDLY BY CLICKING HERE. (I appreciate it massively despite the all-caps.)

Click here to listen to the episode in your browser window. Click here to listen using iTunes, where you can also subscribe to the show and leave feedback on the show, which helps our iTunes ranking and will get us rich and powerful. And mobile users click here to listen and subscribe via the Stitcher app.

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Rachel Dolezal — Papa’s Basement 454

by John Papa on June 15, 2015

The only black woman Hitler ever loved.

The only black woman Hitler ever loved.

For those that focus on news that actually matters in this world, the story of Rachel Dolezal, a white woman who pretended to be part black and reinvent herself as an NAACP in Spokane, WA, might have slipped under the radar. But I don’t do a news show, I do a “haha, what an idiot” show. So this story was pretty much my Watergate Scandal. Co-hostess Eva and I give our takes on the story, gaze upon a video of LeBron James’ penis (which he pulled out during the NBA Finals) and why Tracy Morgan is the funniest comedian of our time (unintentionally so) on the latest episode of Papa’s Basement.

Click here to listen to the episode in your browser window. Click here to listen using iTunes, where you can also subscribe to the show and leave feedback on the show, which helps our iTunes ranking and will get us rich and powerful. And mobile users click here to listen and subscribe via the Stitcher app.

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Amiibo Addiction — Papa’s Basement 453

by John Papa on June 11, 2015

"Amiibo" is Japanese for "rechristened virgin"

“Amiibo” is Japanese for “rechristened virgin”

It’s good to be back. After spending the first minutes of the show explaining why there hasn’t been an effing show in two weeks, Howard (yes, Howard!) mocks me mercilessly for revealing that I got up at 5 am to wait outside Target in order to make sure that I got one of these. I do get a hell of a revenge, however, by revealing to him that his favorite musician died a mere hours before the recording. Between that and some Caitlyn Jenner talk, you pretty much have the episode. Hey, a Snickers is just peanuts, chocolate and caramel when you dissect it. Doesn’t mean it ain’t great. Download the goddamn episode.

Click here to listen to the episode in your browser window. Click here to listen using iTunes, where you can also subscribe to the show and leave feedback on the show, which helps our iTunes ranking and will get us rich and powerful. And mobile users click here to listen and subscribe via the Stitcher app.

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Reviewing San Andreas Without Having Seen It

by John Papa on May 29, 2015

I have sung the praises of Alexandra Daddario's breasts since their appearance on True Detective last year. Tomorrow, they're going to become international stars. This feels like when one of your favorite little-known bands is about to break.

I have sung the praises of Alexandra Daddario’s breasts since their appearance on True Detective last year. Tomorrow, they’re going to become international stars. I’m feeling that same mix of pride and apprehension that you experience when one of your favorite little-known bands is about to break.

You can see how simple mankind is based upon what we spend the most time viewing. We like to watch things blow up and we like to watch people fuck. In fact, the first footage ever filmed was of a guy plowing a broad over the hood of a Model T until it exploded in a fiery ball of anti-Semitic assembly line efficiency*. As the decades have progressed since that first fateful fireball, mankind has crapped out countless entries in the disaster porn arena, from The Poseidon Adventure to Independence Day to Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (zing!). Much like real porn, you begin viewing disaster flicks brimming with adrenaline yet, as soon as the film ends, can remember nothing about them, frantically searching for a wastebasket in which to discard your metaphorical cummy tissues as you reevaluate everything in your life that led you to this moment. The latest in this proud tradition is San Andreas. And it’s going to suck.

There are a bunch of problems with SA (that’s what we people who are too lazy to type out San Andreas call the film. First of all, I can’t hear the title and not think of this (a strong entry in the embarrassingly long “cartoons I would love to have sex with” list). There’s also the fact that the film stars The Rock. I like the guy, but I’ve seen hungry pound puppies that don’t work as hard to be loved by an audience. And let’s be frank: Is anyone going to feel that much sympathy for Californians enduring a hellish earthquake? I mean, they’ve had over a century’s worth of warning to depart their sunny Sodom. If every ten years or so they made another boat called Titanic and it invariably sank, by Titanic IV, people would probably think that, if you got on that boat, you damn well deserved what was coming.

Not all is a loss, however: The movie does feature Carla Gugino, Alexandra Daddario and their fantastically fat dago tits. Unfortunately, with a PG-13 rating, the same earthquake that possesses the power to level half of California won’t be able to pop a nipple out of either of these ladies’ bras, but maybe they’ll throw us a bone via a swimsuit scene that I’d be into if I were five.

Avoid San Andreas like the plague and instead see Mad Max: Fury Road multiple times. Huge explosions and frenetic action don’t have to come at the cost of your self-respect. This isn’t a presidential election: There’s actually a good choice to make.

*-I made this up.

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At first I thought what Josh Duggar did was wrong. Then I looked up his picture. Holy Christ, who WOULDN'T want to be molested by those dreamy eyes and pouty lips?!

At first I thought what Josh Duggar did was wrong. Then I looked up his picture. Holy Christ, who WOULDN’T want to be molested by those dreamy eyes and pouty lips?!

Ay yi yi! Es Josh Duggar! Me ha molestado!” With these words, the world learned of the molestorial (that isn’t a word) misdeeds of Josh Duggar, the oldest child of Jim Bob (that is, somehow, a name) and Michelle Duggar of 19 Kids and Counting fame, who apparently touched several of his younger siblings where their bathing suit covers when he was 15. He and his parents have since tried to very ineffectively spin the incident as youthful horsing around, but Eva, Othello and I get into why there is no way the guy stopped touching kids at 15. We also discuss why the Washington Redskins, who are in the running for HBO’s Hard Knocks, would be an amazing choice, our thoughts on the Mad Men and Letterman finales, and how to properly balance lazy and observant this Memorial Day.

Click here to listen to the episode in your browser window. Click here to listen using iTunes, where you can also subscribe to the show and leave feedback on the show, which helps our iTunes ranking and will get us rich and powerful. And mobile users click here to listen and subscribe via the Stitcher app.

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The Mad Men Finale — Papa’s Basement 451

by John Papa on May 17, 2015

I'm going to miss you and your nose-cone-of-a-C-17 tits, Joan.

I’m going to miss you and your nose-cone-of-a-C-17 tits, Joan.

Recorded mere hours before the Mad Men series finale, Eva and I give our predictions for what happens. She took a serious stab at things, I predicted the episode would begin with Roger eating a steak for 17 uninterrupted minutes with a visible erection. Crazier things have happened. We also mourn the passing of B.B. King and Chinx, two equally-respected icons in the music world who passed away this week. To top it off, we ruin the Game of Thrones theme song more than this video ever will, and also give some health tips. Well, not so much tips as share the fact we are both in horrific health and have, between us, six weeks on this world, tops. So enjoy the show while you can!

Click here to listen to the episode in your browser window. Click here to listen using iTunes, where you can also subscribe to the show and leave feedback on the show, which helps our iTunes ranking and will get us rich and powerful. And mobile users click here to listen and subscribe via the Stitcher app.

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Richmond, VA — Papa’s Basement 450

by John Papa on May 12, 2015

When GWAR is your city's big band, well, brother, you have yourself a pretty awesome city.

When GWAR is your city’s big band, well, brother, you have yourself a pretty awesome city.

After a weekend spent at the VA Comicon, I’m here to declare that Richmond, VA is the greatest city on Earth in its history. I mean, what rivals it? New York City? Overpriced elitist shithole. London? Sure, if you want to be buried in a sea of bad teeth and eel pie. Atlantis? Soooo much water. Plus, it’s fictitious. No, after careful consideration, I’ve come to realize that Richmond, VA is the urban equivalent of the porridge that Goldilocks chose.

Why is Richmond so great? What made my eyes bug out like this while cosplaying at the comicon? And how can you win the “filthy direct messaged photo from co-hostess Eva” contest? Listen to the episode and all will be revealed.

(On a note unrelated to the show, if you want to do the Lord’s work and donate to the Kickstarter fund for my comic, The Spookies, you can do so by clicking here. The rewards for doing so are really incredible and delivered in a very timely manner, so please, if you can, contribute. Thanks!)

Click here to listen to the episode in your browser window. Click here to listen using iTunes, where you can also subscribe to the show and leave feedback on the show, which helps our iTunes ranking and will get us rich and powerful. And mobile users click here to listen and subscribe via the Stitcher app.

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Joss Whedon doesn't hate women. Hell, he reacted to criticism by shutting down his Twitter account and running to his room in a tizzy. There's nothing more feminine than that.

Joss Whedon doesn’t hate women. Hell, he reacted to criticism by shutting down his Twitter account and running to his room in a tizzy. There’s nothing more feminine than that.

We are a country hurtling toward political extremes. On the right, the Tea Party would like you to believe that if you don’t get erect at the thought of the Constitution as you battle any semblance of government and pray at the altar of completely unregulated capitalism, you might as well be sucking Lenin’s mummified cock as Hanoi Jane fucks you with a strap-on. On the left, well, we have what happened to Joss Whedon this week, as a handful of spiteful girls chased him off the Internet for being, in their opinion, a misogynist who directed a sexist portrayal of the Black Widow in last week’s Avengers: Age of Ultron.

Let’s get this out of the way: If ever there were a man who isn’t a misogynist, it’s Joss Whedon. In fact, I can vividly picture the the dude engaging in a daily ritual of donning a dress, squeezing the empty cups where breasts would be if he were a woman and screaming at the heavens, “Why, God? Why not me?” This is a man that reveres women to a degree that, frankly, I find creepy, but whatever floats his boat. His breakout show was Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which featured the titular character in about as rah-rah girl power a role as conceivable. His next work, Serenity, featured a female character who was an unstoppable combat machine, by far the show’s toughest figure. His show after that, Dollhouse, starred a female who was also a master of all forms of physical combat. I think you’re seeing a pattern emerge here.

So what claims were made against adorable little Joss? That the Black Widow (played by Scarlett Johansson) should have instead been portrayed by a woman of gypsy heritage because that’s the character’s background according to the comics. Oh, and that she was simply a femme fatale in this movie, a damsel in distress to be rescued rather than an active fighter. I’ll address both accusations separately.

First, no one on the extreme left gives two shits if an Irish actor plays a German character or if a black man from South Africa plays a black man from Ghana. Why? Because they haven’t been taught to be offended by it, and most original thinkers don’t squander that gift figuring out what they should be offended by. They instead contribute to society in some way, shape or form. I’m Greek. Do you think I enjoyed Hitler Youth Brad Pitt playing Achilles in Troy? It was fucking ridiculous. But I understood the producer of the film wanted make a couple bucks, not show a bunch of swarthy, fur-covered no-names swinging swords at each other. The closest I’ll ever come to seeing a movie with an all-Greek cast is Planet of the Apes, and I’ve made my peace with that.

Second, not to stroke my proverbial nerd shaft into your face, but Black Widow, from what I remember, is a broad in a jumpsuit that knows karate. That’s it. You know who else is in the Avengers? Thor, an immortal thunder god, Hulk, who can survive a nuke being dropped directly on him and Iron Man, a genius who constructed what’s essentially a tank he walks around in. Do you know how annoyed they must be not only having to combat evil but make sure Little Miss Zero-Powers doesn’t get killed on any given mission? It has to be distracting as hell! Joss Whedon is a bigger feminist icon than Gloria Steinem for not limiting Black Widow’s role to jotting down the boys’ order from Sheetz at the beginning of the movie and making sure the correct food was waiting on the table for them after they got done saving the world.

People, whatever your beliefs, keep things in perspective. Anyone calling Joss Whedon a misogynist comes off like a Nazi whispering to one of his colleagues, “I guess Hitler hates the Jews, but he doesn’t hate hate them.” It’s a ridiculous assertion made by people completely out of touch with reality looking to garner attention by loudly screaming absurdities. And hey, if you think Joss Whedon really is a sexist, go out there and create art that depicts the world as you want to see it. Speaking of which, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to the script I’m writing. It’s tentatively titled “The Out-Of-Shape Blogger That Women Couldn’t Resist And Whose Post Went Viral.”

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