So, I haven't watched SNL in a long time, but last week the stars aligned and I happened to catch this shining gem of retarded genius. Between the mildly concussed look in Kenan's eyes and the irresistible catchy-ness of the song I had to share. ENJOY!!!
This skit makes me wonder where Kel is now??? Probably off drinking orange soda somewhere...
I'm off to the forest regions of the South, where as a straggler I will graciously accept my friend's family invitation to gorge on their roasted communal bird and any other foodstuffs I can get my freeloading hands on. And time permitting, maybe sneak in some dragon punch practice under the waterfall in back of my Shidoshi's condo. Kiaaa!!!!! Happy happy. I wish you all the best! (Except the Turkeys. I wish them nothing but swift death and a future inside my stomach.)
Nothing approximates the soundtrack inside my head better than this. So cool.
It's actually too cool. I feel self-conscious watching it, like I'm a high school freshman again who just arrived at the cool senior party with nobody to talk to except my older brother who has a mustache and smokes cigarettes. Then I look around for him, suddenly realizing that he managed to disappear into the crowd with a bunch of other people with mustaches, presumably to go and smoke reefer out in the garage and talk about tits and Metallica.
Now all I can do is watch my palms sweat and fight off the anxiety by drinking beer after beer and doing all the free drugs I can as fast as possible before I freak out, which in doing so would label me the "sweaty hands freak-out guy" for the next 4 years, setting up the core framework of my social identity which I will undoubtedly carry with me well into my dysfunctional adult years.
Wow. Where was I? Oh yeah. This video is like laser heroin for 30+ retired rave dorks. Watch it and prepare to have its wonderfully synthetic sounds engage in the act of taboo digital lovemaking with your retro-nostalgic ear drums.
Well I can't really say anything to make this any better than it already is. All I know is it makes my brain feel like there's a disco ball bouncing lasers off the insides of skull. These monkeys are probably not as smart as me, but that doesn't mean I don't respect the shit out of them. I know I can't ice skate without falling on my face 56 times in a row and using profanity like it's the new Twitter.
So just for the record, allow me to say fuck a skate. While I'm at it, fuck a rink, fuck a puck, fuck a Zamboni. I hate all that shit.
Yet despite being a skater hater, I confess now to all of you that my cold heart can't resist the sight of chimpanzees in Cosby sweaters.
This gets a 10 for excellence. I get a 1 for becoming a skating aficionado. (If even for just 30 seconds.)
Screen writing tip number 42: When at a loss for dialog, just have your characters narrate their own actions. This technique is quick, easy and has the added benefit of making it very difficult for the director to fuck up "your" movie/TV show.
Look out Peter, alternative Spiderman seems to have the power of exposition.
Give me 5 more entertainment geniuses like the creators of this "act" and I will take over Hollywood. I love the fake house set, I love the creepy ventriloquist smiling and the overwhelming whiteness of the whole endeavor plays. The "just got out of the barber's chair" look could use a little refinement though. Were they expecting rain in the studio?
