Joe Pesci Review: Remains Of The Day

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Da Boss here at Sorryless has been breaking my balls lately, bringing in udda headlinahs to do my job. Can you believe this fucking guy? So he was gonna have James Caan come in for this movie review because he didn’t think I would find it interesting, the clueless prick. I hate to admit it but five minutes into the movie, I thought to myself that the asshole was right. I was ready to close my eyes and pray for a coma. Good thing I snuck in a bottle of Chivas and some gabagool.

Anyway, the story is about this butler named Stevens, played by the same guy who plays that psycho nutbag in Silence of the Lamb Roast. Only he don’t eat faces in this movie so what’s the use? He plays this boring as fuck butler, oh I’m sorry . . reserved boring as fuck butler at this place called Darlington Hall. Yanno why the British lost the revolutionary war to us? Because they were too fucking busy thinking up fancy names for their houses.

So Stevens, who’s about as exciting as a stale piece of Wondah bread, has a thing for this really hot chick named Miss Kenton. She’s played by Emma Thompson, who is a real piece of ass! But in this flick, she’s a prude. Oh, I’m sorry . . she’s a repressed prude.

This Darlington Hall place hosts a lot of parties and the people all have sticks up their asses. Oh yeah, and most of em are Nazis. In one scene that really pissed me off, they try embarrassing Stevens by asking him a lot of political shit. Instead of splitting their heads open, he pretends he’s as stupid as they say he is. What a pussy!

Since Stevens is such a limp dick, Miss Kenton gets another co-worker to bang her and later on, the guy ends up wanting to marry her. These British guys have no fucking idea when it comes to women; they either don’t do jack shit or they buy the ranch, what the fuck? So Miss Kenton lets Stevens know she’s getting banged by anotha guy and that this guy wants to marry her, only she doesn’t say it that way since she’s so delusional. No . . I’m sorry, she’s so demure. Fuggedabout it . . she ain’t getting a rise outta Stevens because his goal is to never get laid.

At the end of this movie, other than bringing me two hours and fourteen minutes closer to death, nothing happens. Stevens goes to see this Kenton chick and asks her to come back to Darlington Hall, but he still can’t admit to her that he’s always wanted to bang her. So . . you know how women are, she tells him she’s gonna stay with her husband because she finds Stevens about as appealing as a Ritz cracker you find under the sofa cushions. Only, she doesn’t tell him that at all because she doesn’t have ta, yanno? All she has to do is give him a look.

Stevens goes back to work and at the end of the movie he saves a pigeon that gets stuck in the hallway. The pigeon is symbolic of freedom, and you’re probably wondering how I figured that one out. Well, the pigeon gets freed . . just like me, because it means this sad fucking excuse for a movie was finally ovah.

The Sorryless Super Bowl Preview: LIV For Today Edition!

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So another football season is in the rear view and now we’re left to contemplate whether the Cleveland Browns should maybe try another line of work. And if you’re gonna ask me for a top five takeaways from NFL ’19, you know Imma provide . . .

1- Antonio Brown played exactly one game while grabbing more headlines than a newspaper delivery person.
2- The league uses more cameras than the British press and yet they still can’t get calls right.
3- Contrary to the popular belief that the game was going the way of flag football, defense still matters.
4- The New Orleans Saints must have done some really bad shit in their previous lives.
5- The Miami Dolphins were the most fascinating 5-11 team in NFL history. (I had to).

The New England Invitational has been put on ice as Tom Brady and Giselle shop for homes in more temperate climates and Bill Belichick contemplates yoga. We won’t be bogged down with Fill in the blank-Gates, avocado ice cream recipes or Live PD feeds of owner Robert Kraft walking out of massage parlors. This year, we get actual football!

And we get an historic match-up with the Chiefs making it back to the big game for the first time since Nixon was shopping for tape recorders; while the 49ers are looking to score their sixth Lombardi trophy and their first since Clinton was shopping for cigars. So of course, I had to pull one of my all time favorite NFL photographs: Chiefs legend Len Dawson tugging on a smoke in the locker room. That, is some old school shit right there.

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Speaking of old school, San Francisco is bringing some of that flavor with a defense that Cersei Lannister could’ve used. Kansas City will bring its master gunslinger and a posse that could have been peeled right off the pages of the old AFL, with an ability to score from the locker room.

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What’s that you say? Give us some top five trivia, Marco? N’kay . . .

-The most expensive price for a ticket to the first Super Bowl was $12. Which is about what you’ll pay for a beer at this year’s game in Miami.

-The game was originally called the AFL-NFL Championship Game. Chiefs owner Lamar Hunt coined the term Super Bowl after the Super Ball his daughter played with.

-Commissioner Pete Rozelle sketched the design for the Lombardi trophy on the back of a cocktail napkin.

-17 million Americans will call in sick next Monday.

-The Patriots have appeared the most times. The Lions/Texans/Browns/Jaguars have never appeared. And the Miami Dolphins are the only team in NFL history to complete a perfect season with a Super Bowl win. (Yep . . had to).

Of course, the game will be the thing for the small fraction of the population that doesn’t tune in simply to get drunk, bet the spread or watch commercials. So Imma dish up my prediction on how the LIV Bowl will play out. This is for entertainment purposes only, because if you place a wager based on what I write? Seek help . . imeejiately.

The league agrees to cancel the first half so they can fit in all of their musical commitments. With the extra time, the teams decide to take in a Miami Heat game. At halftime, Patrick Mahomes takes part in a contest in which he can win $1,000 dollars for each shot he makes from half-court. Twenty minutes later, the Heat hold a press conference in which they introduce the Chiefs quarterback as their new owner.

When the game finally begins, Mahomes is unable to lift his arm thanks to all that balling. As a result, the 49ers sack him twelve times on one play even though the league maximum is one sack per play. A replay review proves inconclusive so the league dials up Bill Belichick who delivers video evidence that proves San Fran should be credited with twelve sacks. After three quarters of play, the Niners lead the Chiefs 4-0 thanks to two safeties and a Travis Kelce touchdown that is overturned on account of the fact that coach Andy Reid threw the pass. It’s the most bizarre turn of events since this happened.

During the two hour concert that takes place between the third and fourth quarters, Jimmy Garoppolo is suspended after making a porn in the visitor’s suite. Joe Montana suits up and throws three touchdown passes, because he is still Joe Fucking Montana. With two minutes to go and the 49ers up 32-0, Patrick Mahomes gets the feeling back in his right arm and leads the Chiefs on a furious run. He tosses four touchdown passes in forty two seconds to close the gap to 32-28.

When San Francisco’s Robbie Gould misses a fifteen yard field goal that would have put his team up by seven with nineteen seconds to go, the team trades him back to Chicago. After a delay of game penalty pushes the Chiefs all the way back to their own one yard line with three seconds left, Twitter blows up with #fortyninereasons, CNN’s Wolf Blitzer calls it for the 49ers and NPR reports on rumors of an important game being played in South Florida.

Mahomes steps back to pass as a wave of burgundy and gold converge on him, sending him back through the tunnel and all the way to the parking lot. While simultaneously signing autographs for fans, paying the $150 parking lot fee and evading the 49ers monstrous pass rush, Mahomes flings a pass back into the stadium. The ball travels three hundred and sixteen yards and lands in the arms of Chiefs wide receiver Sammy Watkins in the end zone for the winning touchdown as time expires. The Chiefs donate the extra point to the New York Stock Exchange.

The Vatican heralds the Chiefs three hundred and sixteen yard TD winner as proof of God’s existence. Trump tweets a pic of himself clapping with hands that appear to have been photo-shopped. Ricky Gervais blames the foreign press.

After the game Las Vegas installs the Chiefs as the prohibitive favorites to win the 2021 Super Bowl, as well as the next five Super Bowls after that. Joe Montana announces that he is coming out of retirement to become the Miami Dolphins new starting quarterback (Of course I had to!)




Heroes Of The Week!

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Another week, another cold front on the old news cycle . . bringing with it more (im)peach pie recipes, Antonio Brown police visits, sports brawls, royal fallouts, celebrity Instagram idolatry, pandemic panics, Putin power grabs, Catholic church abuse crises and Super Bowl coverage which proves we are living in a modern day “bread and circuses” empire.

Good thing we have some heroes, and here they go . . .

Imma start things off by giving you two heroes for the price of one aaawww with this story about a very special dog named Eddie and Carin Brown; the Benton County animal control officer who rescued him. When Carin found this beautiful boy, she feared he had been hit by a car because he was listing to one side. The prognosis for Eddie came back differently, but every bit as heart wrenching. It turned out Eddie has an inoperable tumor and doctors surmise he has anywhere from six to twelve months to live.

So Carin created a bucket list for Eddie, teaming up with the Pasco PD to get him sworn in as a K-9 officer. He got his swag on and spent the day on patrol. Well, other peeps in town caught wind of this bucket list and decided to toss their ideas in. So far Eddie’s gotten pictures with Santa as well as a pool filled to the brim with stuffed animals. Next up? Being the star of a kissing booth at an adoption event. Oh . . in case you were wondering, Eddie’s favorite snack is donuts. Of course.

Six-year-old Owen Colley has made about 55 clay koalas so far.

Owen Colley knew he had to do something after talking to his mom about the Australian bush fires. But really, when you’re six years old and all you’ve got is a wish and a dream . . how much of a difference can you make? Welp, this little artist from Hingham, Massachusetts can do plenty.

So far, Owen has made fifty five clay koalas. In conjunction with the Wildlife Rescue South Coast, a wildlife rescue group in New South Wales, the Colley family sends a koala to every person who donates $50 or more to the relief efforts. And if you’re asking how much wallop a wish can pack, consider that in a week’s time the kid has raised more than $20,000. Proving once again that the skies are full of wishes, but it’s the work we put into these wishes that provide the light.

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Good plumbers are hard to find, so Imma hit you with the gold standard. His name is James Anderson and he hails from the UK. He decided to start a non-profit company in his hometown of Burnley a while back, offering free or low cost service to those in need. Of course, every good deed usually comes with debt. Not that it keeps him up at night. “To me, debt is debt. I would rather owe some money to somebody and another person be alive and happy and safe,” he says.

He’d been doing this beautiful thing without fanfare, until he provided service to a 91 year old woman with acute leukemia. When he presented her with a bill totaling zero dollars, her daughter made sure his deed went viral. And thanks to his heart and thanks to her appreciation, his non-profit is no longer operating in the red. Far from it. Which is a good thing, because Anderson plans on keeping at it until “the day God calls me”.  Let’s hope heaven can wait. (Big thank U to that Canadian beauty Dale over at A Dalectable Life for this get).

Another week, another cinematic superhero gone real life superstar. This time it’s that stud of the sea, Jason Momoa of Aquaman fame getting all righteous on us. The star of land and sea took time out from filming to stop by UPMC Children’s Hospital in Pittsburgh to say aloha to some very special kids. The dude is filming a Netflix thriller called Sweet Girl and I know I’ll be tuning in. Because the world needs more peeps like him, whose heart is mightier than his brawn. Mahalo, Jason.

If you ask me how I figure out this weekly lineup of good and better, Imma tell you the truth. I have no blessed idea. Because I never really know what I’m looking for until I come upon it. And the stories do not have to involve donating a million dollars or preventing a school bus from going over a cliff (okay, the latter is probably gonna score with me). I don’t know the story when I see it, I know it when I feel it.

So it goes with Kevin Lindke of Port Huron, Michigan. Because it was inside the quiet of just another evening when his actions spoke louder than any words I could muster. He was driving home when a car passed him going in the wrong direction, so Lindke did what most of us would’ve done in the same situation; he dialed up 911.

But see, Lindke’s heroism ain’t content with retail when it can provide a wholesale change. So he followed the driver, who sideswiped another car before ditching the ride and making a run for it. And of course, Lindke followed, running after the driver until he caught up with her. Turns out, the girl was suffering from a mental breakdown and had stolen the car, but Lindke was undeterred and he got her to stay put until police arrived.

did mention how Lindke provides dollars on the pennies he finds, right? Good. Because when he learned that the car this girl had totaled belonged to a pizza delivery driver who had parked it outside of a school whilst dropping off some pies . . he gave the kid his minivan.

“I’m not going to lie, I about burst into tears because who does that?” Jones told WDIV TV. “It’s a godsend—that this man, out of nowhere, who I’ve never met, would do this. It’s mind blowing.”

So yanno, I don’t find these stories. They find me.


First Draft Horoscopes: Aquarius!

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The good news is, your planets are in perfect alignment. The bad news is they are completely uninhabitable. Nonetheless, you will have a great deal of mental and physical energy to expend so let’s try and channel it into something positive, okay? How about focusing on artistic projects that do not include signing your name in the snow or rodent taxidermy . . .

Your intuition is at maximum levels today, but this doesn’t mean that you’re a mind reader so cut the paranoid shit. All it means is that you are in tune with the people closest to you. It does not mean they should be subjected to interrogations or lie detector tests because if you pull that shit again, you’ll lose the other side of the family as well.

Try to relax and unwind a little, seeing as how you may be feeling more anxious than usual . . as if that’s fucking possible. Maybe you should try working out, since it was a New Year’s resolution and I realize you’re easing into it but come on . . it’s almost February. If you’re going to let your workout resolution roll over into 2021, then maybe attend a concert or sporting event instead. Sans the recording equipment this time unless you really don’t mind the idea of spending twenty three hours a day in a cell with someone named T-Bone.

Sign Language For Dummies

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Baseball went to the mattresses this month in a bloodletting that leaves three franchises in limbo on the heels of the Houston Astros sign stealing scandal.

As a result, Houston fired its manager and general manager. Boston fired its skipper, Alex Cora, who had served as bench coach for Houston and is suspected of using nefarious means to steal signs while in Boston as well. And the New York Mets Carlos Beltran stepped down before ever managing a single game.

If you’re not down with the latest MLB ordeal, it’s really quite simple. The Astros stole signs, which is something that’s been going on since rawhide was invented. Only difference is, they created an elaborate system of video monitoring, which had been banned by the league prior to these actions. During home games, they had someone watching a video monitor and banging a trash can to signal what pitch was coming for Astros hitters. When world class hitters are accorded that kind of 411, it becomes batting practice. Hence all the heads that have rolled, and all the many heads that are teetering nervously in anticipation of being found out.

So yeah, Houston does indeed have a problem, and you can expect every away game on their schedule to become an episode of American Horror Story. I’m pretty sure they should forfeit their three game series in New York in late September, unless they’re curious as to what Fallujah looks like in the fall.

They had us all fooled, yours truly included. Hell, back in October, I included the Astros in my Heroes World Series edition saying “. . . The Houston Astros have done just about everything right over the last five seasons . . .” Fucking guys.

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Sports is supposed to be an escape from the everyday world of taxes, transit strikes, unpopular general elections and shitty roads. But seeing as how sports is made up of fallible participants, the odds are not always in our favor.

In fact, professional sports has a long and sullied history of scandal and controversy. In basketball, there was referee Tim Donaghy’s game fixing scandal. Hockey saw the Edmonton Oilers trade Wayne Gretzky to America, shortly after which it became illegal for Canadian teams to win the Stanley Cup . . . I think. And in football, you have the New England Patriots.

Baseball’s got all of them beat. There is one hundred years worth of unfortunate events tucked in its seams. From the 1919 Black Sox scandal to Pete Rose being banned from baseball for gambling on games to the steroid era to this month’s sign stealing revelations involving the Houston Astros and Boston Red Sox.

The truly unique aspect regarding the sport formerly known as America’s Pastime is that time seems to romanticize (or monetize) most of its wounds. Countless books have been written and several movies have been made about the 1919 White Sox fixing the World Series. And while the steroid era will always be a blight to fans of a certain age, the dirty truth is that it produced a tsunami of green. Player salaries grew exponentially as a result of tainted numbers while owners took full advantage of an explosive revenue stream by creating their own television networks. Welp, at least Commissioner Bud Selig fought to preserve the integrity of the game . . .

So even out of worst case scenarios, baseball usually figures out a win. Can you imagine a real life tragedy being romanticized to the tune of billions of dollars? Oh wait . . I forgot about James Cameron.

This latest scandal is already going next gen with crazy accusations about Astros players wearing electronic devices during games. It’s like Bad News Bears meets MacGyver meets The Wire meets Are you kidding me with this shit?  But that’s okay because player agent Scott Boras insists that his client- Jose Altuve- never used an electronic device. Which should put these rumors to sleep since no player agent has ever told a lie about their client, ever.

Of course, as sports scandals are wont to do, this has peeps feeling all sorts of ways . . most of them homicidal. The Astros are the latest Public Enemy Number One to come down the sporting pike, and it doesn’t get any more vitriolic than the text my friend sent to me yesterday morning when we were discussing Sign-Gate. He had some . . uh . . sharply fashioned thoughts as per Houston’s diminutive shortstop, Jose Altuve.

That little fucker should quit baseball and become a jockey. 

I should note my friend is a Dodgers fan. And a gambler. So, yanno . . when he’s hurt he says things he doesn’t really mean. Even though he really means them.

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All kidding aside (for a moment), I really hope the Astros don’t suck this season. As much as the Yankees fan in me wants to see them win eighty five games and miss the playoffs, the baseball fan in me wants to see them make another run at October. Because it would prove how good this club truly was/is, and that it didn’t need to resort to Nixonian tactics. It would serve to remind us once again that no player or team will ever be above the game. And it will provide a much needed respite to Astros fans, who waited fifty five years to celebrate a championship and now are left to wonder what it all meant. They deserve better than what they’ve gotten, I do know that much.

Perhaps the biggest irony is that for all the video recording and trash can banging the Astros were utilizing, their home field advantage meant bupkis in the World Series last October. They became the first team in World Series history to lose all four games played in their home park.

It was as if the baseball Gods were taking out the trash.