Randominator: The Formula For All Tyler Perry Productions

Step 1. Gather from the crevices of the universe every overweight person you can find.
Step 2. Select from them, those that are: The loudest, and the best singers.
Step 3. Be sure to mix. Miscegenation on screen is key.
Step 4. Have them tackle somewhat relevant, but ultimately innocuous problems.
Step 5. Simultaneously perpetuate the stereotype of African American obesity with every episode
Step 6. Do so without compunction and you will be the highest paid man, or woman in all the land.

This is not an attack on Tyler Perry, or the Entertainment Empire he has built for himself. This is simply an observation. Maybe these opinions aren't even ours; maybe someone hacked our site and used our popularity to carry out their own Vendetta. Just saying, you can't prove anything. So, ha. 


The Randominator

Randominator: A List of Real Band Names that Could Double as Names For a Twelve-Year-Olds' Biker Gang

1. Can't Kids
2. Little People
3. DUDES
4. Young Pharaohs
5. Savages
6. Emil & Friends
7. The Killers
8. MVSCLES
9. Tiger Waves
10. Meatloaf
11. Big D & The Kids Table
12. Sugarhill Gang
13. The Young
14. Eric Clapton

The Randominator

Randominator: Quote of the The Moment

"It's like I used to tell my wife. "I do not apologize unless I think I'm wrong, and if you don't like it, you can leave." And I say the same thing to my current wife, and I'll say it to my next one, too." - Stanley from The Office.


The Randominator

Randominator: The Truth Behind the "Birds and the Bees" Speech

Once upon a time, a secretly homosexual sex-ed teacher from one of those Catholic schools where they still consider corporal punishment "a-okay!" in the eyes of the Lord was walking along the forest path in the forest that he lived in, in a house, in the forest. He was like Smokey the Bear, except that he was a closeted gay who told small children that abstinence was the only way to save your soul while Smokey the Bear was an anthropomorphized talking fire-bear who told small children that they were the only way to save forests...actually, he was exactly like Smokey the Bear. Anyway, he was walking in the forest, this non-hetero in hiding was, when suddenly he came across a swarm of bees and a bird doing IT. Like IT IT. Yeah, that IT. Don't ask me why, don't ask me how, don't ask me who was on top, I wasn't there; only this extremely conflicted man who loved both God and other men, except God didn't know about those other men. He saw this animalistic, insane lovemaking, and realized life was too short to spend it all cooped up in a school rapping kids on the knuckles. So he burnt his frock and moved to France to become the first Formula One driver to propose to another on the racetrack.
And that's why it's called The Birds and the Bees.

The Randominator

The Mystery of EDM: Or, How Guetta Killed Gaddafi

Every once in a while, it serves the public well to step back from their lives as the public and really take a long, hard look at themselves, especially in those areas of entertainment that most directly affect their image of public-ness. The more specific the public can get, the better. Then the public should say either "Hey, we like this, let's keep doing it and support it further" or "Hey, this sucks harder than asphalt, let's ditch it and move on to something better."  Sometimes this works out great (see: Frisbees, rock'n'roll, Adam Sandler's diminishing popularity), but sometimes the public messes up big time (see: Nickelback, Jersey Shore, every Adam Sandler movie that isn't Waterboy). To be fair, though, the public isn't too smart, so we have to cut them a little slack. And besides, it's not easy to pick the good stuff. Like clubbing baby seals, deciding what's worthwhile and what's a waste is very hit or miss. Also like clubbing baby seals, it gets people madder than you would expect. If the right thing isn't picked there is rioting in the streets, anarchy in the capitol, disarray in the supermarket. Don't believe me? Look at what happened after Lost ended. Basically Lincoln's death all over again. Much like the assassination of a beloved president, the public could simply not handle the truth that Jack and Kate and the fat guy were all in purgatory/dreamed the entire thing/became polar bears. (I barely got through the first episode of Lost.)

But fear not, fellow Lost-confused-me-ers, for you will soon have your chance at societal redemption. Another Day of Judgment approaches. And this one is free of smoke monsters and time travel. Soon, we shall have our chance to decide whether the cultural phenomenon of Electronic Dance Music makes it big, or falls to the dust like that one guy on Lost. (Last reference, I promise.)

Randominator: Six-Word Movie Plot Summaries

Brave: Young ginger proves she has soul.
Alien: Well, at least the cat survives.
The Avengers: All the nerds need new pants.
Water for Elephants: Pattinson, how do you find work?
No Country for Old Men: That one guy? He kills everybody.
Prometheus: Old Man decked by alien, Fassbender.
Abraham Lincoln Vampire Hunter: Honest Abe gets crazy with axe.
Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted: Ben Stiller sits back, counts cash.
To Rome With Love: Woody Allen? Rom-com? What a surprise.
Twilight: Girl meets vampire, dies of blandness. 
Sherlock Holmes:  Downey, muscly, makes sleuthing sexy again.

The Randominator

Randominator: If Jesus Fought Satan

Stephen Hawking, obviously, referees. At the opening bell, Jesus "The Carpenter" Christ leads with a right hook that knocks Alfred "The Goat" Beezlebub into the ropes. The Devil staggers yet manages to stay on his feet. Our Lord and Savior rushes at him, but Satan is a wily figure and is able to avoid His Holy haymaker. He follows up with a nasty left cross to the Messiah's chin and finishes with a right to the breadbasket that drives the air out of God's Son with an audible ufffhh. JC falls to the ground, communion wine dripping on the mat, as Lucifer stands over him ready to deliver the KO. The crowd grows silent: could this mean the end of Christmas?

For a lack-of-deus ex machina, a  T. rex drops down from the ceiling and eats both combatants. Stephen Hawking types an emoticon that looks like a fist punching the air. 

The Randominator

Homosnacktuals: A Tribute To The Proposal of Mr. Colbert

Beware Tank Man: we are here cookie, we are queer cookie and we will plow cookie right into you. Pun intended.

The Nabisco division of Kraft foods, seller of the "Oreo" cookie, has just recently come out in support of gay relationships.  How deliciously appropriate for a cookie that markets the deliciousness of its "cream filling," to support of any two consenting adults, "filling" each other's carnal desires, regardless of how, or with what they plan to fill them with. An examination of the anatomy of an Oreo will present: two identically spherical surfaces that have each crevice filled to its physical limits, with a foreign and sweet white cream. If that is not a subliminal way of promoting the mud Olympics, then I have been taking entirely too much pleasure in jamming my tongue in the cracks of that slutty cookie, and sucking out my reward. Not to mention the distinct and apropos rush that accompanies the purchase of the "Double Stuf[f]" cookie. It's clear the innuendo this cookie presenting; I'll be damned if I can't recognize all types of consumer-aimed "food-nography" when I see them.

Mostly Important Announcement: RANDOMINATOR

Hello,

              

                    I am the person writing this. In an effort to keep the content featured on this wonderland more readily awesome we are adding the Randominator. It shall henceforth turn out comical quips daily. They will cover anything that we choose to. From angry Black Santas to not...black things. There will still be Goliath sized articles, but this feature is meant to cater to our viewers with the inferior attention spans, kidding. These little "Strickindotes" will go betwixt the monolithic comedies.  They will be short. They will be hilarious. They will be daily. Good Day.

                                                                      Sincerely Yours, 

                                                                      The Person Who Wrote This

                                     

Here's a little reward for paying attention this whole time. Scroll down to see Alan Cumming, it's not what you think, or it is exactly what you think. 

   

         

Drink it in

Ode To The Magical Negroes: A Tale of Time

In the future, all black people are wizards. So have your fun now. 

One might read a title like that and say to himself, (because one only means a man and those are the only inner thoughts that are of importance.) again, one might say to himself, "hmmmm.... self, I did not know that the Strickin was run by Bill Cosby" or contrarily "Finally, I find out when my adopted black baby will learn magic!" These are the only possibilities that exist when one (a free land-owning male) gazes upon those nine words above. I will carry on this one-sided discussion and attempt to be as much not a racist as I am much a racist. Wait, I mean I am not "much a racist" but I am saying that I will "not" be racist just as much as I "will" be racist. No racism is what I am saying, no racist things or yeah no race. I mean yeah there is race obviously, but there is no "ism" against the races.

Let's just dive right in here. You may know them as "Magical Black Men", "Black Magical Men", "Blackgical Men" or "Magic Blacks". However the origin is, be it archaic as it is, "Magic Negro". Now without delving too deep into the logistics of what exactly Magic is, or the difference between non-magical Negroes and Magic Negroes or Hidden Magic Negroes or just plain old good Negroes who appear magical, magical Negroes who appear good and Good Negroes whose magic appears, or as Spike Lee would call them, "Super-Duper Magical Negro" as he derides their magical negro-ness, without doing that, I present the first edition of the most powerful Blackgical appearances in Blinema Blistory. 

Independence from Everything Regular Day

As I write this the clock over my head reads 1:05. It would say AM, too, but it's an old-fashioned clock with hands so it can't say actual words. If it could, though, I'm sure the first thing out of its weird Turing-test-passing steampunk mouth would be "Shut that stupid music off and go to sleep already." It's an oldish clock that needs its beauty sleep, so that's understandable. But then the second thing it would say would definitely be "Why the hell are there fireworks going off at one oh friggin' clock in the morning?!" This short outburst tells us three things about this clock: firstly, it is easily irritated and would not do well in social situations with large groups of other clocks; secondly, even though it is a clock it does not seem to grasp the concept of days and thus has no way to tell that today is July Fourth, Independence Day for the United States from (like everybody else on Wikipedia's list) Britain; thirdly, it is a communist, because it hates great American people, fueled by great American German beer, expressing their great American spirit for this great American holiday with large and greatly explosive American Chinese fireworks. Oh God. I have a Red clock. I will remove this clock from my room before it can Marxify the rest of my appliances. But that can wait until tomorrow, because I'm busy today expressing my independence in every way possible, dammit, and working on holidays is for socialists. 

July 4th is an interesting time for the Fiddy States, on many levels.