How do you properly measure the substance of a year? Time spent with family? The amount of retweets you've garnered on Twitter? Or perhaps the hours you've wasted watching trash TV? Comebacks, for me, are the true measure of a year—stories about resilience and drive and hard work. Here, before we say goodbye to 2014, the year's best comebacks.
Get a load of this idiot.
Matthew McConaughey, actor, chest-thumper, and true detective, has done some serious ethical calculus regarding the name of Washington D.C.'s football team. And after weighing the history of "redskin" as an ethnic slur against the "little bit of fire and some oomph" the team's emblem brings, he's made his final decision: The name stands.
Which ancient, neurotic pervert got more applause at the Oscars on Sunday night—Woody Allen or God?
It’s easy to take for granted how far gay-straight relations have come in the past 30 years. It’s so easy, in fact, that David Carr published a piece in the New York Times last week wondering “What if Gawker tried to out an anchor at Fox News and no one cared?”—the implication being that the culture had "moved on" from caring about someone's sexual orientation.
In William Friedkin's Killer Joe, Gina Gershon's character Sharla is forced to give head to a chicken leg, a penis stand-in held at the crotch of Matthew McConaughey's anti-hero Killer Joe Cooper. Like the peeing scene in Last House on the Left, the marathon gang rape of I Spit on Your Grave, the wire torture that caps Audition and the turtle (and everything else) in Cannibal Holocaust, it is one of those scenes – a bit of celluloid that will define the film's legacy. The image of Gershon's bee-stung lips wrapped around a chicken leg is not something you see everyday or any other day, for that matter, and if you remove yourself from any emotional connection, you can appreciate this as a minor innovation in the catalog of things movies have done to freak people out, a stand-out in the canon of cinematic depravity.
America's cousin who seems nice enough but your mom still doesn't want you to hang out with him so much, Matthew McConaughey, announced on Twitter Wednesday that he and wife Camila Alves are expecting their third child. He also took the opportunity to shill for a totally chill nonsense company he invented.
Skip to the 1:20 mark for what you didn't see in Magic Mike: Channing Tatum making Hollywood's best male ass clap. What will he do next to keep us fanning ourselves collectively? The world is such an exciting place.
Metrosexuality had to live and die for us to get to this new, at-ease, intimately homosocial era of masculinity, at least as it is depicted in pop culture. It's a time of bromance, of straight dudes getting drag-queen makeovers on reality TV, of straight soldiers lip-synching like drag queens on YouTube, of Chris Brown and Justin Bieber intimately duetting, of Drake and Justin Bieber intimately duetting, of rappers implicitly endorsing gay marriage. And no film has better encapsulated the new masculinity zeitgeist that values self security over rigid, external notions quite as definitively as Steven Soderbergh's male-stripper saga Magic Mike.
If you have kids of your own, you know how insane it is when some famous idiot like Angelina Jolie is talking to a magazine and is like, "Oh, we all hang out at home together and watch movies in bed!" Of course you do. I'm sure flying to Cambodia to shoot ludicrous Louis Vuitton ads only takes five minutes out of your day. The rest is all dedicated to you and your 12,000 little ones.