Most popular movie of the year!!!!!!!!!!!!1
Ok guys, so here is the most popular movie of the year in review. The polls are in, the critics are both baffled and ecstatic. The #1 movie of the year also happens to have the #1 most popular movie star, it’s a double threat, a quadruple threat, a google-tuplet threat!!!!!!@@!! The movie is…
Osama Bin Laden’s comeback tape. (watch it here) (the above is an artist’s rendition)
Mere days after being released everywhere at once, almost the entire world had watched it. That’s right, in a year where movie studios spent near-billions of cash in marketing their giant robot, giant hero, or giant loser movies, the number one movie of the year was created for less than $20 and shot in some shithole in Pakistan. The star foolishly appeared without taking any profit points, and the cinematography was drab and uninspired.
BUT WHO CARES!!! OSAMA BIN LADEN!!!!!! In case you’re wondering who that is, the above visual made by yours truly pretty much sums it up.
IF YOU CAN’T BEAT EM, JOIN EM
Studio moguls everywhere are throwing scripts at their assistants everywhere and screaming with cigars in their mouths demanding to know how they too can get it on this Osama craze everywhere. Osama’s in Pakistan, which makes taking him to lunch at The Ivy difficult, so talent agents everywhere are chartering flights to Islamabad and encountering numerous hijinks that will later be outlined in wry but moderately successful eighties comedies. Meanwhile, producers are hammering out terrorist-themed concepts.
“The terrorist leader, see, that’s the ticket,” one particularly tweed-garbed producer yells out to his bespectacled yet-comely secretary/assistant/BJ-giver who quickly jots down these nuggets of pure entertainment gold down. The producer stops in his tracks and spins around pointing into the air, “But why stop there, the real hot stuff is in the reality of terror, the audience needs to feel the bombs dropping right into their popcorn!”
Cut to the same producer, gesticulating wildly in a large conference room while rotund studio board members sit around the large table, arms crossed. The producer jumps onto the table before freezing with a big finish and panting in exhaustion, the senior vice president of internal finance control drops his monocle into his tonic water. The aforementioned studio mogul, chewing at a gigantic puffing cigar, turns in his chair and kicks his feet up while screaming “YOU ARE GOD DAMN OUT OF YOUR GOD DAMN MIND GIVING ME THAT GOD DAMN SHIT AND I GOD DAMN LOVED EVERY GOD DAMN MINUTE OF IT, GOD DAMN PURE GOLD!” He takes the cigar out of his mouth and pats the producer on the back.
Opening night, the audience hushes into the theater and the orchestra begins the overture before the movie begins. Suddenly, a man stands and screams before the theater explodes in a fiery blaze. Headlines read “TERRORISTS STRIKE AT MOVIE PREMIERE!” Every god damn showing sells out for thirty weeks, being a victim of terrorism becomes the new hip fad. Headlines read “MOVIE DOESN’T BOMB, INSTEAD BOMBS!” The movie studio uses the profits to think up new and more exciting acts of terrorism with sequels. The producer, now draped in arab silk, spins around with a phone headset on, pacing back and forth making deals:
“I’m telling you Tom, acting is so last millenium, Oscars are all talk, dirty-bombs in the cargo space of a U-Haul are where it’s all headed. Will’s already on board to drive, you can hold the detonator. The people love the guy who holds the detonator, it’s the chance of a lifetime.”
Being listed on the FBI and CIA’s most wanted lists becomes a status symbol in Hollywood. “If you don’t understand terror, you don’t understand the audience!”
Finally, Osama Comes out of Hiding
Nobody remembers who he is, the FBI is too busy chasing down Peter Jackson’s gigantic mile-tall deathbot in Chicago. Only kiss-ass entertainment and fashion gurus, led by Steven Cojocaru, notice him on the red carpet. Everyone else just gets autographs for their moms.
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