More Stupid Taglines For a Bad Movie That Was Released Years Ago 2021

Jack Bauer, Pun Cop

The following takes place between 11:00am and 12:00pm.

Events occur in real time.

Bing bong, bing bong, bing bong, bing bong...

"Chloe, I need you to decrypt the files I've taken from a thumb drive I picked off a terrorist's corpse."

"Scanning, Jack. Uploading the first three."

"Hmm. Nothing there. Just lazy food-related puns. This isn't the information we need to stop the virus bomb, Chloe. What else have you got? I need something I can act on."

"Stand by, Jack."

"Is that a real beer? Jesus."

"It was found by an agent Barry Flanik, sir."

"I don't know who that is. Send me more as it comes, Chloe, I have to rappel off this bridge."

"Chloe, what is this?"

"It's a screenshot from a news program, Jack."

"I know that. These puns are getting worse. We have to locate that virus bomb, Chloe!"

"I'm doing my best, Jack!"

"'Squeeze the Day?!' 'Give Peeps a Chance?!' Things are way worse than I thought they were, Chloe. This effects the whole damn city. We have to triangulate where the signal is coming from and tell the police to evacuate from a six block radius!"

"Dear God. They've gotten an entire city bus. Move move move!"

"Jack, here comes another one."

"Chloe, I can't read that. I've been shot in the stomach. Lost a lot of blood. Tell me how bad the pun is."

"Pretty bad, Jack. There were two of them. Okay, I've isolated the signal and have pinpointed the location along with another file! Uploading now!"

"Is that even a pun, Chloe? Railroads use ties, not rivets. I think that one is a reach."

"Sorry, Jack. I'm just a little frazzled trying to type while being shot at in the Turkistan embassy."

"Just stay cool, Chloe. I'm sure the S.W.A.T. team is on the way."

Bing bong, bing bong, bing bong, bing bong…

"What the hell is this, Chloe?! This is no good! It's a six month old signal, from CHRISTMAS!!! WE'VE LOST THE TRAIL!!!! DAMMIT!"

Bing bong, bing bong, bing bong, bing bong…

The EADJ Sticker Show

Wherever there are urban areas, there are rats. But also, wherever there are urban areas, there are random stickers. Now, nobody's saying that rats are responsible for putting up random stickers... fuck, I'm not really sure where I'm going with this.

(restart) Hey, have you ever noticed random stickers around town and wondered what the hell they mean? Well, we at EADJ are here to help with our new segment, the EADJ Sticker Show. Using the power of the Internet, we attempt to demystify the sticky goings around town! You're welcome!

• MilkBoy sticker, spotted in an Austin, TX burger joint


Well, pre-sleuthing, I'm guessing this is some kind of record label or music store. And a quick visit to MilkBoy.tv confirms this. It's a recording studio located in Ardmore, Pennsylvania, boasting services such as multi-track digital recording, mixing, and sound design. The fact that the sticker was found in the musical mecca Austin comes as no surprise, then. They also own MilkBoy Coffee, a coffeeshop/bistro that has a stage for music for their label's artists. Neat.



• Sucka Brown sticker, spotted in suburban Los Angeles


Pre-sleuthing, I guess Sucka Brown is some wise-ass self-promoting graffiti artist. A quick Googling, however, revealed Sucka Brown to be worse: a bunch of white guys from Boston playing "funk/pop/rock." And yes, their music is as white bread funk as you can imagine.



Kudos to Sucka Brown for spreading the word of their sub-par, Ruby Tuesday-caliber funk all the way to the San Fernando Valley!

• Leo & Pipo sticker, spotted in Midtown NYC


I assumed Leo & Pipo was some sort of boutique clothier for the sophisticated urbanite who drank Dos Equis and smoked cigarillos. Turns out Leo & Pipo are two Parisian artists who use collages of black and white photography to integrate people from another time into the surroundings of the present.


So essentially their stickers are a big part of their art, and instead of some thoughtless promo slapped on a mailbox, it's *art* slapped on a mailbox. We at EADJ approve of this distinction.

Check EADJ for more sticker investigatin' in the future. Or submit your sticker mysteries to incineratedfrank@yahoo.com

Oh, Splendid.

Spotted in my room at the W in Austin, Texas, some eerie wallpaper:


It's very similar to the rug in "The Shining."


Not a pattern you want to see in a hotel. Especially when covered in what looks like cocaine and bloodstains.


Why can't my hotel room be more like "Eyes Wide Shut," instead?

More Hip Hop Awfulness

It's time once again to document the latest and weakest in hip hop. And this time it seems we have to categorize the different kinds of awfulness.

Using Food Imagery For Mixtape Covers


Because the one thing more street than a baker's hat is Canadian currency.


Looks like someone couldn't finish photoshopping the waitress outfit, said "fuck it," and plopped a bag of money to cover her.


Not sure why this is all going down at a Texaco station. Any ideas?

I do, however, appreciate the reflection of the orange in his sunglasses.

Terrible MC Names


"Thirstin Howl III" is a good name because it clearly states that you're rich. It's bad because we all know what rhymes with "third."


"Kil Ripkin." Yup, that's his handle. By adopting this name, this emcee invites comparisons to legendary Hall of Famer and former Orioles shortstop and third baseman Cal Ripken, Jr., who holds the record for consecutive games played (2,632). Except he KILLS. Get it?




General Misappropriation




Other


"DJ H1N1" would actually sound pretty badass.


I'm confused about appropriating the "bodega" theme here, but points for the "Ed Haji" shirt.

EADJ Surprising Hostility: Crushed Ice

Ah, crushed ice. You just totally suck, don't you?

I mean, you're ice, but you're not terribly useful; the instant I put you in a drink, you're already melted, so instead of rendering the drink colder and more refreshing, you've simply watered it down. Fucking awful.

And handling you is a pain in the ass, too. I can't just grab a few cubes. I have to grab that bitch-ass pewter scoop to grab a portion of you. I use the word "portion" because you even come in vague, unsatisfying amounts. And Lord knows that scoop is no good at containing you, because you always leave such a sloppy puddle on the floor or ground anyway. GOD, I HATE YOU!


What the fuck good are you, crushed ice? What, as an Italian ice or Sno-Cone? Good in theory, but essentially what that is is you being made more palatable with sugar water. You're just there for texture and temperature, and believe me, that's not a lot.


So whenever I see you in a urinal in the men's bathroom at some "fancy" bar or restaurant, I gladly piss on you. It is just so satisfying to burn a hole right through your useless, shapeless lump. Ladies, you don't know what you're missing. No, wait. Let me just leave a small crushed iceberg in your toilet and you can give it a go!

Do your work, sun. FUCK YOU, CRUSHED ICE!