Homeland nabbed a slew of Golden Globes recently. It's no wonder: Between rampant infidelity, terrorism, dirty politics, and murder, the Brodys are the Hindenburg of suburban families. Their story is tragic, sure, but it's impossible to not watch.
At least that's the case for the most part. As they say, every chain has a weak link, and for the Brodys, the go-to moment destroyer is Chris Brody, the innocent son who's painfully oblivious to the litany of life-threatening situations and hair-raising events this caught-in-the-middle clan endures on a regular basis. He's clueless about the disarray around him to the point that we sometimes wonder if he maybe just understands it all too well and is reverting to some earlier state of childhood, the age of 4, perhaps, as some kind of defense mechanism.
In an episode from Season 2, for example, the Brody family is put up in a fancy high-rise penthouse under CIA protective custody. While the rest of the family perfectly grasps the gravity of the situation -- that being the very real possibility that they will all be killed -- Chris darts around the new digs, marveling at the size of the televisions like he's been in a coma since 1999 and has never seen a flat screen before.
"A Sega Dreamcast? And a PlayStation?"
The NRA recently decried violent video games as the cause of youth violence. Anyone with a scant amount of video game knowledge knows that the NRA is full of it on this point, but are you curious why they stick to that talking point so vehemently even though it's been disproved time and time again?
The answer to that question may lie in the NRA's several failed attempts at breaking into the video game market.
In 2004, they released the "first in a series" of sponsored video games called NRA Varmint Hunter. They describe it as "stunningly realistic" and both "fun and educational."
"This is the future of shooting games. Small animals are the new Nazis."
In case you have never heard of the World Championship of American Football (which is entirely likely), we must begin your introduction by stressing that it is not the same thing as the Super Bowl. The Super Bowl is a three-hour beer and soda commercial starring flaccid old rock stars and the occasional female rapper. The World Championship of American Football is the world championship of football (the type that is played in America).
It's been held every four years since 1999, making it just as storied a tradition as the World Cup, which is the world championship of that silly bullshit football they play in Europe. The series is organized by the International Federation of American Football (IFAF), whose 64 members include countries like Kuwait and Moldova (which we're pretty sure was one of the sovereign territories of Vigo from Ghostbusters 2). The organization is also based in France, because as Euro Disney has unquestionably proven, France is the greatest place to put transplanted American culture.
And Kuwait famously loves their goddamned football.
Rich people are just like us: They put their pants on one leg at a time, and when it comes time to settle an argument, they stoop to the same petty tactics that those of us camped out closer to the poverty line do. For example ...
#4. Corporate Infringement Case Ends in Arm Wrestling
When Stevens Aviation realized that rival company Southwest Airlines had inadvertently infringed on their slogan, they could have easily taken them to court. But Stevens Aviation CEO Kurt Herwald had the same thought so many of us do every single day: "Why involve lawyers in this when we could just as easily arm wrestle?"
Dallas Morning News
We dare you to look at this photo without humming "The Final Countdown."