Weekly Dose of Ridiculous: Tom Cruise, Boobs and ‘Kick-Ass 2′
Hey, remember how much you loved ‘Kick-Ass’? You loved it so much that you didn’t go see it in the theater and all that money that Matthew Vaughn spent funding it outside the studio system was squandered. Okay, so some of you went to see it and bought it on DVD or Blu-ray, and many of you bought the comic books and their sequel, written by creator Mark Millar. Well, that was enough, and now Universal is going to make a sequel with the help of Jeff Wadlow. “Who is this Jeff Wadlow fellow,” you may be asking. Wadlow is the director of ‘Cry Wolf,’ a terrible horror movie starring Jon Bon Jovi, in which Bon Jovi — SPOILER — is literally shot through the heart. We’re not even kidding. That is a thing that happens in that movie. And now we can look forward to the guy who thought that was totally clever directing a sequel to an actually clever movie.
Eww, Tom Cruise. What is this? Promoting his new film ‘Rock of Ages,’ Cruise posed for the cover of W Magazine and it’s just sort of sleazy, like a bad mix of Axl Rose and pretty much every modern day alt-rocker with access to eyeliner and money to burn on tattoos. Speaking of tattoos, do we really need one circling his nipple like that? That nipple just jumps right off the page and all up in your face like, “Hey, I’m Tom Cruise’s nipple! Suck my teat of money and power!” This may be fine for his wife, Katie Holmes, but we think not so much for the general public. He has a lady whispering in his ear, probably about said nipple exposure, and another lady about to stick her hands down his pants, and he just has this look like, “Yeah? So what? My nipple.” Also, is that gun pointing at his crotch supposed to be a metaphor for something? Does he hate how powerful his underwear area has become or is he trying to shoot a disease off of it?
Vulture spoke to Chevy Chase and he just couldn’t keep himself from talking more trash about ‘Community,’ saying, “I just don’t think the writing of that character reflects what I do comedically, and I love the people I work with. They’re all good kids, and they all do very well in their parts. But I don’t think anyone has a sense of what to do with me, so I got to play some gray-haired, biased, bigoted guy. I’ve been too funny in my life to have to play a character who’s…moderately funny.”
You know what’s not funny, Mr. Chase? Talking smack about the writers on the TV show that’s currently paying your bills. If you have enough money and you don’t need this job — which is what it sounds like you’re trying to say — maybe you shouldn’t have taken the job in the first place. You know, out in the real world, people have jobs that they don’t particularly love all the time. You, Mr. Chase, were blessed with a lifelong career that you love, and that career allows you to make calculated choices and take or turn down jobs as you wish. Instead of speaking about your issues publicly, why don’t you speak to showrunner Dan Harmon and his writers directly? Or just quit? These public jabs have become exhausting, and you should know better at your age, sir.
Have you been watching this show called ‘Magic City’? It sounds like the place to be. Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Olga Kurylenko, and Danny Huston star in a show about Miami in 1959, and it was recently renewed for a second season. The title makes it sound like it should be a soap opera about the dramatic lives of magicians. Or a city filled with tiny magic people, like Peter Dinklage.
Approaching season two, casting director Bill Marinella says he’s had a really difficult time finding women with real breasts. Marinella says, “I’ve actually had better luck finding synchronized swimming groups than I did finding real boobs. We did a lot of research and reached out to burlesque clubs and just finding people on the beach and literally walking up to them on the street and saying, ‘Hey, you look like you’re right out of The Great Gatsby.’ ” In all fairness, that line only works on drunk grandmas.
But the ridiculous news here is that real breasts have become an endangered species! Actresses no longer value their natural assets and plain, real women are being approached in the middle of the street, all willy-nilly like, to be on television.