Official Match Thread Season 37 Round 14 - Coney Island Warriors v Fighting Furies at Van Corlandt Park

[James Colorado]

Worst?

I think you mean Best

Hey, I'm not a film critic, my views are not expressed on Wikipedia. Though it is an editable resource...

 

[Tonga Bob]

Hey, I'm not a film critic, my views are not expressed on Wikipedia. Though it is an editable resource...

The Room is an editable resource.

 

[FootyGuy13]

Hey, I'm not a film critic, my views are not expressed on Wikipedia. Though it is an editable resource...

Ask Bob, He's a connoisseur of bad movies.

I mean it's no Blacula.

You gonna watch The Neverending Story II tonight?

 

[James Colorado]

Ask Bob, He's a connoisseur of bad movies.

You gonna watch The Neverending Story II tonight?

Well, in that case:

Tonga Bob here's the three worst movies I've ever seen:

(Spoiler tags are to protect omgfridge who actually takes the cinematic arts seriously and knows a lot about film).

Spoiler

This is the worst piece of s**t I've ever seen. Not a single redeeming feature.

Chicken Park - Wikipedia

en.m.wikipedia.org

 

[James Colorado]

Spoiler

I don't mind John Leguizamo normally, but this take on The Most Dangerous Game makes me wish I was the one hunting him. Execrable film.

The Pest (1997 film) - Wikipedia

en.m.wikipedia.org

 

[Tonga Bob]

Ask Bob, He's a connoisseur of bad movies.

You gonna watch The Neverending Story II tonight?

Still stuck watching the first one. Send help.

 

[James Colorado]

Spoiler

Grunge is a genre that was very much of its time. I'm a millennial, and early enough in my generation to catch the tail end of it when I was a small child and so have an appreciation for a lot of it (except *ing Pearl Jam, can't stand that trash), but you don't see many late-millennials and zoomers into it. So, a movie made in and set in the late-00s with an aspiring grunge musician doesn't address this guy having missed his chance at stardom by more than a decade. It is also one of those "hilarious parodies" that doesn't elicit a single smile.

At least the girls were hot.

Stan Helsing - Wikipedia

en.m.wikipedia.org

 

[Tonga Bob]

Well, in that case:

Tonga Bob here's the three worst movies I've ever seen:

(Spoiler tags are to protect omgfridge who actually takes the cinematic arts seriously and knows a lot about film).

Spoiler

This is the worst piece of s**t I've ever seen. Not a single redeeming feature.

Chicken Park - Wikipedia

en.m.wikipedia.org

Genuinely terrified right now

 

[Tonga Bob]

 

[Dinsdale]

Often cited as one of the worst films ever made.

The Room - Wikipedia

en.m.wikipedia.org

omgfridge is currently rolling in his grave (having just died of cringe at being reminded this film exists and burying himself immediately).

Ever seen David Lynch's "Eraserhead"?

That's the worst movie I've ever seen.

 

[James Colorado]

Ever seen David Lynch's "Eraserhead"?

That's the worst movie I've ever seen.

I haven't, but I've been meaning to. I've enjoyed some of his other films, but there's a tendency to weirdness.

 

[ShaunDuggan]

I once tested the limits of human endurance by watching The Room two days in a row.

I thought I emerged unscathed, but it turned out I was moved to create a Big Footy account.

Should have just read it.

 

[Dinsdale]

I'm in prison

 

[Tonga Bob]

I'm in prison
View attachment 1977911

Ask them if they have any Tactical Nuclear Penguin, or better yet - Sink The Bismarck.

 

[Dinsdale]

Ask them if they have any Tactical Nuclear Penguin, or better yet - Sink The Bismarck.

Nope. Had the Elvis Juice, that was pretty good

 

[Tonga Bob]

Nope. Had the Elvis Juice, that was pretty good

Can confirm that is a good beer, which can sometimes be found at Aldi.

Look up the story of Sink the Bismarck when you get a chance. Sh*thousery between Brewdog and some German brewery trying to outdo themselves.

 

[Dinsdale]

Can confirm that is a good beer, which can sometimes be found at Aldi.

Look up the story of Sink the Bismarck when you get a chance. Sh*thousery between Brewdog and some German brewery trying to outdo themselves.

Oh I have, I was onto Brewdog quite a few years back, when they published their first 100 recipes for free, made quite a few.

 

[Purple7x08_24]

The Unraveling of a Soul

In the quiet corners of a bustling city, there lived a man named Elias. As a child, he was molded to fit the world—a mere puzzle piece in the grand narrative. He didn't know anything else; he was a cog in the system, turning dutifully as the gears of life ground on. His parents, teachers, and peers all whispered the same mantra: "Work hard, strive for success, and happiness and prosperity will follow."

And so, Elias toiled. He burned the midnight oil, chasing academic accolades, financial stability, and self-achievement. The relentless drive consumed him, fueled by the promise that it would lead to fulfillment. But as the years slipped by, he felt like a ship adrift in a storm, tossed between societal expectations and his own inner turmoil.

In his forties, Elias witnessed the world unraveling. Social media became a carnival of narcissism, where people flaunted their curated lives, seeking acceptance through likes and shares. Greed gnawed at the edges of society, and corruption seeped into every crevice. Division festered, and self-opinionated voices drowned out reason.

One day, as he sat on a park bench, watching the pigeons peck at crumbs, Elias realized the futility of it all. The mindless rat race—the ceaseless pursuit of something—left people burnt out, devoid of enthusiasm. They were like marionettes, dancing to an invisible puppeteer's whims. But working for what? The question echoed in his mind, reverberating through the microcosm of his existence.

Then, he stumbled upon a hidden library—a sanctuary of forgotten wisdom. Among dusty tomes, he found solace. The truth revealed itself: happiness and prosperity weren't elusive prizes at the end of a grueling race. They were woven into the fabric of everyday life—the delicate notes of a violin, the play of sunlight on dew-kissed leaves, the rough texture of a well-loved book.

Elias began to eviscerate the layers of conditioning that bound him. He stepped off the treadmill, leaving behind the relentless pursuit. Instead, he wandered the streets, observing the intricate sounds—the laughter of children, the distant hum of traffic—the sights—the graffiti on crumbling walls, the way raindrops clung to spiderwebs—and the textures—the rough bark of ancient trees, the cool marble of statues.

I thank you for accompanying Elias on this journey. For you, too, have seen the beauty in life—the quiet moments that shimmer like stardust. As Elias embraced his true self, he discovered that prosperity wasn't measured in bank balances but in the richness of experience. Pain and joy intertwined, creating a tapestry of existence.

And so, Elias walked the path less traveled, his footsteps leaving imprints on the pavement. He reveled in the microcosm of existence—the symphony of life playing out in every heartbeat. For in the unraveling, he found wholeness, and in self-discovery, he found purpose.

May you, too, find beauty in the ordinary, and may your soul dance to the rhythm of life's quiet melodies.

 

[Tonga Bob]

The Unraveling of a Soul

In the quiet corners of a bustling city, there lived a man named Elias. As a child, he was molded to fit the world—a mere puzzle piece in the grand narrative. He didn't know anything else; he was a cog in the system, turning dutifully as the gears of life ground on. His parents, teachers, and peers all whispered the same mantra: "Work hard, strive for success, and happiness and prosperity will follow."

And so, Elias toiled. He burned the midnight oil, chasing academic accolades, financial stability, and self-achievement. The relentless drive consumed him, fueled by the promise that it would lead to fulfillment. But as the years slipped by, he felt like a ship adrift in a storm, tossed between societal expectations and his own inner turmoil.

In his forties, Elias witnessed the world unraveling. Social media became a carnival of narcissism, where people flaunted their curated lives, seeking acceptance through likes and shares. Greed gnawed at the edges of society, and corruption seeped into every crevice. Division festered, and self-opinionated voices drowned out reason.

One day, as he sat on a park bench, watching the pigeons peck at crumbs, Elias realized the futility of it all. The mindless rat race—the ceaseless pursuit of something—left people burnt out, devoid of enthusiasm. They were like marionettes, dancing to an invisible puppeteer's whims. But working for what? The question echoed in his mind, reverberating through the microcosm of his existence.

Then, he stumbled upon a hidden library—a sanctuary of forgotten wisdom. Among dusty tomes, he found solace. The truth revealed itself: happiness and prosperity weren't elusive prizes at the end of a grueling race. They were woven into the fabric of everyday life—the delicate notes of a violin, the play of sunlight on dew-kissed leaves, the rough texture of a well-loved book.

Elias began to eviscerate the layers of conditioning that bound him. He stepped off the treadmill, leaving behind the relentless pursuit. Instead, he wandered the streets, observing the intricate sounds—the laughter of children, the distant hum of traffic—the sights—the graffiti on crumbling walls, the way raindrops clung to spiderwebs—and the textures—the rough bark of ancient trees, the cool marble of statues.

I thank you for accompanying Elias on this journey. For you, too, have seen the beauty in life—the quiet moments that shimmer like stardust. As Elias embraced his true self, he discovered that prosperity wasn't measured in bank balances but in the richness of experience. Pain and joy intertwined, creating a tapestry of existence.

And so, Elias walked the path less traveled, his footsteps leaving imprints on the pavement. He reveled in the microcosm of existence—the symphony of life playing out in every heartbeat. For in the unraveling, he found wholeness, and in self-discovery, he found purpose.

May you, too, find beauty in the ordinary, and may your soul dance to the rhythm of life's quiet melodies.

Speaking of finding purpose...

 

[Dinsdale]

The Unraveling of a Soul

In the quiet corners of a bustling city, there lived a man named Elias. As a child, he was molded to fit the world—a mere puzzle piece in the grand narrative. He didn't know anything else; he was a cog in the system, turning dutifully as the gears of life ground on. His parents, teachers, and peers all whispered the same mantra: "Work hard, strive for success, and happiness and prosperity will follow."

And so, Elias toiled. He burned the midnight oil, chasing academic accolades, financial stability, and self-achievement. The relentless drive consumed him, fueled by the promise that it would lead to fulfillment. But as the years slipped by, he felt like a ship adrift in a storm, tossed between societal expectations and his own inner turmoil.

In his forties, Elias witnessed the world unraveling. Social media became a carnival of narcissism, where people flaunted their curated lives, seeking acceptance through likes and shares. Greed gnawed at the edges of society, and corruption seeped into every crevice. Division festered, and self-opinionated voices drowned out reason.

One day, as he sat on a park bench, watching the pigeons peck at crumbs, Elias realized the futility of it all. The mindless rat race—the ceaseless pursuit of something—left people burnt out, devoid of enthusiasm. They were like marionettes, dancing to an invisible puppeteer's whims. But working for what? The question echoed in his mind, reverberating through the microcosm of his existence.

Then, he stumbled upon a hidden library—a sanctuary of forgotten wisdom. Among dusty tomes, he found solace. The truth revealed itself: happiness and prosperity weren't elusive prizes at the end of a grueling race. They were woven into the fabric of everyday life—the delicate notes of a violin, the play of sunlight on dew-kissed leaves, the rough texture of a well-loved book.

Elias began to eviscerate the layers of conditioning that bound him. He stepped off the treadmill, leaving behind the relentless pursuit. Instead, he wandered the streets, observing the intricate sounds—the laughter of children, the distant hum of traffic—the sights—the graffiti on crumbling walls, the way raindrops clung to spiderwebs—and the textures—the rough bark of ancient trees, the cool marble of statues.

I thank you for accompanying Elias on this journey. For you, too, have seen the beauty in life—the quiet moments that shimmer like stardust. As Elias embraced his true self, he discovered that prosperity wasn't measured in bank balances but in the richness of experience. Pain and joy intertwined, creating a tapestry of existence.

And so, Elias walked the path less traveled, his footsteps leaving imprints on the pavement. He reveled in the microcosm of existence—the symphony of life playing out in every heartbeat. For in the unraveling, he found wholeness, and in self-discovery, he found purpose.

May you, too, find beauty in the ordinary, and may your soul dance to the rhythm of life's quiet melodies.

I've had far too many beers to critically comment. Please give me between 1hour and 3 days.

 

[spudmaster]

I'm in prison
View attachment 1977911

Nice looking creaming soda there.

 

[Dinsdale]

Nice looking creaming soda there.

That's an red IPA you philistinian

 

[spudmaster]

That's an red IPA you philistinian

I love it when you talk dirty.

 

[FootyGuy13]

James Colorado

Spoiler

 

[Feraligatr]

I'm in prison
View attachment 1977911

You down for a holiday?