Shiro had always been an insufferable sick person before Kerberos. He’d liked to wail about how he was dying, how Keith needed to bring him chicken noodle soup every second of every day and bow to his every wish. Keith would roll his eyes and bring him his tea or soup or whatever it was that made him feel better. Back then, it was easier. Back then, Shiro was sick maybe once a year, too healthy to be caught more often than that.
After Kerberos, his illnesses were harder to spot. He would go quiet more than anything else, quietly sniffling into his breakfast. Whenever anyone asked if he was okay, he would always answer reflexively, not even processing the words.
“What a 2017 it’s been so far, huh, guys: Hillary Clinton sworn in as president. The Patriots lost the Super Bowl. Lemonade won Album of the Year. And every print of La La Land spontaneously combusted.”
Samantha Bee presented an alternate universe where Hillary Clinton is president. It was oddly touching and a sad reminder of how Michigan, Pennsylvania, Russia, and Wisconsin ruined this country.
Hours before “nerd prom” kicked off at the White House Correspondents Dinner in D.C. — minus the president — Samantha Bee and her “Full Frontal” cohorts took the stage at DAR Constitution Hall for TBS’ “Not the White House Correspondents’ Dinner.” The alt-TV special was more than twice the length of a regular “Full Frontal” episode, letting Bee’s typical ruthless comedy and satire loose with both barrels.
If viewers tuned in hoping for an hour of bashing President Trump, they were in for some disappointment. Not that there weren’t some excellent barbs made at POTUS’ expense, but the night was more about celebrating the often-maligned journalists who continue to try to do their jobs in the face of adversity.
“You (journalists) basically get paid to stand in a cage while a geriatric orangutan and his pet mob scream at you. It’s like a reverse zoo. But you carry on. You dig up misdeeds and frauds by the powerful, you expose injustice against the weak and you continue to fact-check the president as if he might someday get embarrassed,” said Bee, to big laughs.
And that was the right approach for this special, taped Saturday afternoon in D.C. and broadcast hours later (10 p.m. ET/PT) on TBS. A full-on roast of Trump would have been enjoyable for a while, but it would have gotten tired. The “Full Frontal” gang is not a one-trick pony, and they put that on a brilliant display, from video segments of Bee performing at imagined past Correspondents’ Dinners (and also an imagined 2018 WHCD for President Pence), to a cold open featuring “West Wing” alum Allison Janney giving a press conference in her snappy CJ Cregg way, to Will Ferrell popping by to reprise his George W. Bush impression from “Saturday Night Live.”
It made for a lively mix of comedy that never felt bogged down or like it was beating a dead horse by repeating itself.
It was also nice to see Bee not pull any punches in regards to the press (not that viewers expected any less). Not only did the special land some pointed commentary at outlets like Breitbart and the way Fox News dealt with its sexual harassment issues, it also did a segment about how much CNN is wasting its cadre of talented journalists in favor of whatever it is CNN puts on the air most of the time. Bee put the blame squarely on CNN president Jeff Zucker’s shoulders.
“Zucker’s greatest success since ‘The Apprentice’ — which, by the way, thanks for that — is filling the airtime between car crashes with a reality show loosely based on the news where loyal partisan hacks make us measurably dumber by spewing mendacious nonsense while a hologram of Anderson Cooper stands by counting the seconds to the commercials for all the pharmaceuticals he probably wishes he could gulp down before to sedate himself before Kayleigh opens her f—ing mouth again,” said Bee, to the appreciative crowd that did include some CNN representatives.
My only quibble with the special is that there were so many pre-recorded video segments it didn’t leave much room for Bee live on stage firing off astute observations and sharp one-liners. She’s an incredibly talented comedian, often delivering three more zingers as the audience gets around to laughing at the first one, so it would have been fun to see Bee more in what is undoubtedly her element. But I understand the desire to want the special to keep changing gears — plus, Bee’s “Man in the High Castle” parody that closed the show was nothing short of genius.
Featuring the man, the myth, the legend George Takei handing the host a film called “The Bee Lies Heavy,” the segment imagined a world where Hillary Clinton won the election, “the Patriots lost the Super Bowl, “Lemonade” won Album of the Year and every print of “La La Land” spontaneously combusted,” and featured Bee’s imagined opening monologue for Clinton’s first WHCD.
There were plenty of zingers leveled at President Clinton (and first gentleman Bill), but Bee ended the jokes with a message that she reportedly couldn’t deliver at dress rehearsal without getting a little choked up. While she held it together here for the actual show, it was still a very heartfelt (and a little sad) way to close out the show.
“In conclusion, Madam President, I want to say thank you,” said Bee. “You may have your faults, but because of you, I can tell my daughters that they can do anything and that sexism won’t hold them back. The world will not magnify their faults and ignore their virtues because of their gender. That time has truly passed. No hard feelings, men. If there’s one message that echoes through this dinner, let it be that men’s rights are human rights and human rights are men’s rights.”
If the trend continues of Trump boycotting the White House Correspondents’ Dinner for however long he’s in the White House, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if Bee made this alternative event an annual tradition.
It’s a Friday morning and Jelly has just spent half an hour repeatedly refreshing her email, waiting for something interesting to arrive. So far she has received two advertisements from Old Navy, one promising the lowest prices of the season on high waisted jeans and the other announcing a sale on swimwear (there are no seasons in California); one message from Jelly’s local congressman, whose name is so plain that she forgot it as soon as she deleted the email; and one email from her mother with the subject line “Article” and only a link in the body of the message. If Jelly didn’t know her mother, she might think it was spam.
Tom Brady was voted number 1 in the top 100. Matt Ryan should've been number 1
HAHAHA. This is the best. Brady won the Super Bowl and the players think he’s number 1?
But in all seriousness, Matt Ryan should’ve been higher, but not number 1. No one, player or otherwise, is going to pick the guy who lost the Super Bowl after having a 25 point lead; they’re going to pick the guy who came back 25 points, winning the Super Bowl.
To quote John Madden,
That’s the biggest gap in sports, the difference between the winner and the loser of the Super Bowl. That’s it. Brady’s seen as the GOAT (which he is), and Ryan is seen as a choke (which, arguably, he isn’t).
But who knows, I’m not a player or an analyst, just some girl who loves football.
I was laying at the top of the stairs, petting my dog and sighing of boredom. It was just another lazy Saturday, where my parents were out scurrying around town doing errands. It was a long weekend, and almost all of my friends were out of town. I had absolutely, completely, nothing at all to do. I heard my phone ding, and basically jumped and leaped across the room to check the notification. Literally any sign of civilization and the social network was a strong beacon of hope on a day like this one. I grinned when I saw it was a text from my boyfriend.
It was just a hey, but better than nothing.
Me: Hi :) What’s up!!
(c/n): Nothing… i just miss u :P
Me: Awww i love u. Wanna come over?
I typed, hopefully.
(c/n): UMM DUH!!!! Thought you would never ask!!! Be over in 10!
Me: You’re SUCH a nerd!! Can’t wait ;)
Satisfied, I clicked off my phone. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all. 10 minutes later, on the dot, I heard a knock on the door. I ran to the door, swung it open, and there was my (c/n), standing in all his adorable hotness. He smiled and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me off the ground, and placing a soft kiss on my lips. I brought my chin back to smile at him.
“Hi.” I said. He laughed. “Hi.” He dropped me and followed me into the kitchen. I sat on the countertop, and (c/n) pressed himself against me, circling me in a tight hug and engaging me in a passionate and heated kiss.
“You need to get bored on Saturdays more often.” He said with a laugh. I hopped off of the counter, poking him in the chest. “Veryyy funny. What do you want to do?” He trailed behind me as I walked to the kitchen counter. “I dunno. What do you want to do?” I rolled my eyes. “I dunno. What do you want to do?” I teased. He laughed and tickled me. A bright idea struck into my brain. “Hey, you wanna make cookies? We have tons of chocolate chips. We can make chocolate chip cookies!” I enthusiastically said. He kissed my nose. “You’re so adorable. Yeah, let’s do that! Sounds fun!” Little did I know all the chaos that would ensue. Halfway through mixing the batter, we had a little spillage. (c/n) was trying his best, really, but while tipping the flour into the bowl, he lost his grip and it spilled, literally, everywhere.
“(c/nnnnn)!” I said, dragging out his name. “Now we’re going to have to start over.” (c/n) fake frowned.
“Sowwy.” He mocked, sticking out his bottom lip. I put a little bit of flour on my finger, and swiped it on his nose. “You’re a silly goose.” He scoffed. “You did not just do that.” (c/n) laughed, throwing a pinch of flour in my face. I returned an even bigger handful back, the white powder exploding all over his shirt.
“Oh, it’s so on.” What followed after was the messiest fight I had ever been in. It finally ended when (c/n) wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me so tight and tickling me so hard I couldn’t breathe.
“I surrender! I surrender!” I screamed, laughing. He released his grip, laughing as hard as me. I pulled him into a kiss and then broke apart quickly, letting my lips drag on his.
“Really, (y/n)?” He said, pleading. “You’re such a teeeeaaassseee.” Drawing out the last syllable, begging. I looked over my shoulder and winked. He rolled his eyes. We finished making the batter, lay balls of dough on the tray, and popped it in the oven. (c/n) closed the oven with a satisfied grunt out his nose. He threw his arm around me and led me to the couch. We pulled up our favorite TV show, but we had to keep rewinding because we were getting so distracted with each other. When the oven dinged, (c/n) rushed to the oven, pulled on the oven mitts, and set the tray of steaming, warm cookies on the counter. He went to reach for one when I stopped him.
“Babe, for real? You’re gonna burn your hand off!” I laughed and booped his nose. He shrugged and booped my nose in return. “That’s quitter talk!” he said, before grabbing one of the gooey, chocolatey cookies off the tray. He dropped it within seconds. “Ow, ow, ow, it’s hot!” He yelled, shaking his hand in attempts to ward off the pain. I laughed. “I told you!” We waited for about 20 minutes, then when the cookies were cool enough to hold, we each popped one in our mouths.
“Mmmmm, these are soooo good, (y/n).” (c/n) moaned in pleasure. “(y/n), you’re a genius in the kitchen.” I shrugged. “You make me better at it.” (c/n) hugged me with one arm, since he couldn’t really kiss me with chocolate chip cookie in my mouth. “What can I say? We’re better together.”