When Katie did it, I was fine. I let it go. Sometimes great minds think alike (that is, when they’re not stuck in mind prisons or hiding from their husbands in poorly attended Broadway shows). And besides, her theft of my “Jewociraptor” look was an aside at most. She flung it at some random passerby and a papz just happened to catch it on film. It’s not like the look was plastered on a playbill for All My Sons.
But when one of my looks is not only stolen, but used to PROMOTE something, I have to step in.
This is the poster for Jim Carrey’s upcoming Liar, Liar rip-off slash sequel, Yes Man:
A fine poster, I guess. Jim’s open, friendly smile clueing us in that his decade long attempt to get away from middling high-concept comedy dreck and segue into middling high-gloss dramatic dreck (vomit The Majestic vomit) is over, and he’s finally accepted his fate as the guy who talks out of his ass, makes funny faces and one time, way back in the day, was the best actor in the best film of 1998 (The Truman Show).
Also, it’s about eight clicks gayer than the Milk poster.
NOW!
This is a picture of me, doing my world-famous “Frolicgaying through the Vineyards” pose, taken in the Summer of 2006:
The sequel, taken in the Summer of 2007:
And the too-shadowy threequel, taken just a few months ago:
Notice the outstretched arms, the look of freedom and unadulterated whimsy. See how I am flying through the air amidst the breathtaking spectacle of nature? See how drunk girls at parties could see me and assume I am harmless? See how sorties yoked my arms are in the sequel shot?
Point is: I own this look. I have perfected this look. And I have been using it to amuse my friends and promote my affability for YEARS!
And Jim freaking Carry stoles it! Stoles it right up! A yoink of the highest order! And for what? To sell his lame comeback vehicle? Couldn’t he have stolen Kevin Smith’s Buddy Christ look? Or Eddie Murphy’s happy smile from the Coming To America poster? Or, I don’t know, one of those iconic “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” smileys?
Anything but MY quintessential frolic shot?
Don’t get it twisted, I should be getting a percentage on every dollar grossed by this C+ flick. Or, at the very least, a free shot at co-star Zooey Deschanel (not to woo her, cause REALLY, but to tell her to step playing love interests to mottled older comics. It was creepy when the 40 year-old Will Ferrell macked down on her in Elf, and it’s EVEN CREEPIER to see 47 year-old Jim Carrey do it in here. What’s next, making eyes at Woody Allen? ScarJo will not stand for that. Why not try hitting on the Mac guy for a change, at least he’s age-appropriate.). Either way, I’m getting sick and tired of Hollywood raiding my Facebook profile pics as a means for celebrity publicity.
I SWEAR, if John Krasinski steals my “arms crossed against a rock wall, full-on Side-Sweep of Your Salvation” shot for some GQ photoshoot, I will punch his mugging, nice guy ass in the THORAX.
(After all, I stole that look from Jon Hamm far and square!)
Bangarang!
Jim Carrey’s new thriller The Number 23 looks about as appealing as your average Joel Schumacher-directed film. This is to say, it looks mediocre. As a public service, I have compiled a coincidentally numbered list of reasons why you should save your money and not go.
