#eddie murphy raw

[stimtickle]

* NOES 3: Dream Warriors - 3/1/87

* Angel Heart - 3/6/87

* Lethal Weapon - 3/6/87

* Evil Dead 2 - 3/13/87

* Street Smart - 3/20/87

* Raising Arizona - 4/10/87

* The Untouchables - 6/3/87

* The Believers - 6/10/87

* Predator - 6/12/87

* The Witches of Eastwick - 6/12/87

* Spaceballs - 6/24/87

* Innerspace - 7/1/87

* Adventures in Babysitting - 7/3/87

* Full Metal Jacket - 7/10/87

* RoboCop - 7/17/87

* La Bamba - 7/24/87

* The Lost Boys - 7/31/87

* The Monster Squad - 8/14/87

* The Whales of August - 8/19/87

* Fatal Attraction - 9/18/87

* Hellraiser - 9/18/87

* Near Dark - 10/2/87

* The Princess Bride - 10/9/87

* House of Games - 10/14/87

* Barfly - 10/16/87

* Prince of Darkness - 10/23/87

* The Hidden - 10/30/87

* Less Than Zero - 11/6/87

* The Running Man - 11/13/87

* Planes, Trains & Automobiles - 11/25/87

* Wall Street - 12/11/87

* Throw Mamma From The Train - 12/11/87

* Eddie Murphy: Raw - 12/18/87

* Empire of the Sun - 12/25/87

When I was growing up 1939 was popularly remembered (back then) as a great year for movies and it was…but it was no 1987. For the last ten or so years, 1999 has been celebrated as a great year for movies (American Beauty, The Matrix, Boys Don’t Cry, Fight Club, The Insider, Three Kings. Being John Malkovich, The Blair Witch Project, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Office Space, Deep Blue Sea, etc.) and it was, but it was no 1987.

Admittedly 1999 was a year of heightened consciousness for movies. Frustration with the status quo was palpable and the movies definitely reflected that. Pre-millennial tensions blended with existential angst to bring about a refreshing alchemy of spiritual reclamation. But still…it was no 1987.

I was thirteen going into my fourteenth year and 1987 was very formative for me. The sheer amount of modern classics released that year is mind-blowing to me still to this day. We were simply spoiled for choice. The best NOES sequel was amazing, to be quickly followed by Angel Heart and Evil Dead 2!! Read the list, it was an astonishing time for the movies.

And July of 1987 is still hands-down the best July for movies ever. Full Metal Jacket this week, fucking jaw-dropping Robocop the next. La Bamba the next, followed by The Lost Boys. HOLY SHIT!

*With Hellraiser, Near Dark, The Princess Bride, Barfly, House of Games, etc. October was pretty freaking awesome too.

1987 is the year I relish most when I think about contemporary movie classics. Compared to 1999, some of these titles might appear somewhat shallow, but I’d say look again. There is a lot of intense sociological depth to a lot of these films…but it’s not the overriding point they’re trying to make. Entertainment was thoughtful, but not in your face.

A new level of storytelling intensity was reached that year. A stunning year for genre films.

Never again will it ever be that incredible.

*While I did see them, I didn’t really care about Moonstruck, Beverly Hills Cop 2, Mannequin, or Dirty Dancing…but they certainly had their fans too.

Much Love, T. Stickle

*FYI: Bad Taste, Street Trash, and of course Robocop all conspired to open me up to the beautifully gross & demented joys of Splattertoons. Yet another reason why 1987 is so dear to me. 😝

[80smovies]

[tinydancer--81]

Hey y'all, I made these hilarious stickers for those of us who don't vibe with the "live laugh love" and instead have more of a "filth flarn filth" vibe (some of y'all on this site have a lot more than others...😄🤘).

Get yours!

PayPal: keebeeart@gmail.com

Venmo: @keebee419

[martiancount1877]

Gay Cops

Why are gay police officers useless in a car chase longer than 5 minutes?

You try going woo woo that long.

[duranduratulsa]

Now showing on DuranDuranTulsa's Comedy Cinema... Eddie Murphy: Raw (1987) on Hulu #movie #movies #comedy #concertfilm #comedyshow #standupcomedy #eddiemurphy #raw #eddiemurphyraw #keenanivorywayans #samuelljackson #tatyanaali #deonrichmond #DamienDanteWayans #kimwayans #clebertford #80s #Hulu #durandurantulsa #durandurantulsascomedycinema

[phantom-cosmonaut]

🏎️💨 1990 Toyota Celica commercial, starring Eddie Murphy

[paulgadzikowski]

Eddie Murphy had a whole set in his standup act about a phone call he got from Cosby telling him to stop swearing so much.

Bill Cosby claimed the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air was "soiling Black culture … setting back the course of Black television progress" and "helping to destroy Black culture."

[thesiouxzy]

[g4zdtechtv]

THE PILE PRESENTS: AOTS! - I Attack the '80s | 12/14/07

Gnarly!

(4GTV - THE MOST TUBULAR SPOT FOR ALL THINGS G4 AND LOTS MORE! CLICK HERE, MAN!)

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

I look so fucking serious for a 3 year old.

I wonder if that was common for me.

[possiblyunhinged]

There’s something deeply ironic about comedians who complain about being “cancelled” only to then boast about the size of their audiences. They don’t seem to realise that they’ve swapped out an audience that loves comedy for one that just hates the left.

Maybe I’m just desperately wrong and have poor taste, but growing up, what struck me so much about stand-up was how it felt like the exhibition of perfect writing. These were people who found the perfect sentences—no fat, all purpose—that achieved their goal in a satisfying, sharp amount of time. It felt like a meritocracy where intelligence was rewarded, not being a hateful little prick whose success hinges on owning a podcast rather than the actual “craft” they claim to love.

As a Brit, I grew up thinking that American stand-up produced deities—Eddie Murphy’s Raw was like a rite of passage. But now? It’s less Raw and more Joe Rogan’s Chatting Shit I Know Nothing About Because I Don’t Understand How Scientific Consensus Works.

I don’t want to sound like John Stuart Mill, but there’s a quality distinction between stand-ups like Attell, Stanhope, and Jeselnik, compared to the Schulz/Rogan lot—more like scorned teenagers who didn’t find popularity in school but, as adults, stumbled upon a herd of people dumb enough to boost their egos. They’ve turned mediocrity into a brand. Maybe they aren’t entirely wrong, just never good enough to try and do something meaningful in the craft they set out to do.

And when people critique their work—which would’ve been considered just another art critique not that long ago—they make out it’s purely a woke sentiment to not find this desperate need for every male comedian to have a “trans” bit fucking weird. It’s desperation attempting to Trojan horse itself as bravery.

There’s nothing brave about having an established podcast audience to espouse your dead stand-up to. Nobody will be thinking about their “bits” in a decade’s time because it’s fucking shite. They’re not known for that—they’re known for podcast beef and platforming misinformation because they lack any integrity to point out, or educate themselves on, how scientific consensus works.

If we look beyond how fucking cringe and prepubescent it is to be desperate for “edgy” comedy (yak), it requires a line; it always has. The lack of adaptability of (specifically and wholeheartedly) men in comedy is so fucking funny to me. They’re has-beens whose insecurity grows at the rate of their audiences’ beer bellies.

American comedy, meanwhile, appears to have become transactional—an exchange between men not quite good enough to be defining stand-up comedians and men who feel pushed out of comedy in the way a 7th grader’s homework feels too complicated for them now. That’s the legacy they’re leaving behind: not comedy, but a crutch for mediocrity masquerading as bravery.

Genuinely fed up of being on a planet of men who act increasingly like scorned teenage boys. Engage frontal lobes, then speak please hehe x

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

I think it's time for me to come clean with something I've never admitted to anybody before. And it's not something I've done or anything like that. It's not an action I've taken. It's an opinion I have that I know is something that would cause a lot of...let's say strife with most people if they knew I had it. It's not a controversial opinion I'm particularly proud of the way I'm proud of my opinion on John Lennon being a boring hack, or my opinions on YouTube content creators being, by default, talentless nobodies compared to literally any other professional creative, or my opinion that sport hunting journalists and politicians should be, if not actually legal, than at least one of those victimless crimes that never actually get prosecuted. This opinion I'm about to share is something that my own parents would never understand if I were to admit it to them, which, to be honest, does sting a bit when I let myself think about it too much.

I know most of you don't follow me for personal BS, and I respect that, so I'm going to put a cut before I state this opinion so people who don't really care to learn more about me as a person can easily give it a skip. For the rest of you, all I ask is that you try to keep an open mind, and understand that this is as hard for me to admit as it is for you to read.

George Carlin is a terrible fucking comedian.

I know. I know.

But hear me out.

I'm not saying he's not funny, because he can be. Certainly he was hilarious to 12 year old Little Me who would watch clips of his acts on Comedy Central long after my parents went to bed. But as I got older, I started to notice something. It wasn't that I was "growing out" of George Carlin. That's silly to say. That's like saying someone grew out of watching Eddie Murphy's Raw. You're not even supposed to be watching that stuff until you're grown.

No, the thing I noticed was that he isn't actually a comedian.

He's a blogger.

Again, he does tell jokes, but telling jokes does not a comedian make. Everyone tells jokes. What makes a comedian a comedian is that they are so funny that people will pay money to laugh at their jokes. And that's not George Carlin. That's not why people go to see George Carlin. They might think it is, but it's not. No, they go to see him for the same reason he stands up in front of them and speaks.

They want to hear their own opinions parroted back at them, and then they want to cheer. Just like George doesn't really want to make people laugh. He wants to give his opinions on social issues and politics, and then he wants everyone to clap and validate those opinions. The laughter is completely secondary. It's not even necessary past the point of telling just enough jokes to both get people in the door, and to allow those people the illusion that they're at a comedy show and not reading a blog.

And Carlin isn't the only blogger pretending to be a comedian. You probably know quite a few already. The Jon Stewarts, John Olivers, and Jimmy Kimmels of the world who just want to be cheered for stating their, often idiotic, opinions on things. I used to call this "Applause Comedy", and I've always hated it with a passion. But these days I just call it blogging, because that's what it is. And George Carlin is its grandfather. His entire career is based on "telling it like it is" instead of "telling jokes". And let's be fair, some of his opinions are right. Of course, these days the people he roasts are usually not on the same side of the political divide as the ones he was intending on roasting. He is another terminal victim of the 60s, so don't ever mistake him for being even remotely right wing.

(I wonder if, were he still alive, would he be one of those few boomerlibs that actually recognize how batshit insane the left has become? Or would he be one of the ones that now supports all the things they railed against 40+ years back because their identity as a leftist is more important than their supposed principals?

I could speculate, but I won't.)

But being able to comment intelligently or eloquently on political or social issues isn't a skill one should look for in a comedian. And getting cheered for stating an opinion isn't something a real comedian should look for in their audience. A comedian tells jokes. He makes people laugh. He tells stories and weaves tales and creates an atmosphere of joy. He allows us to keep the outside world at bay for an hour or so, and leaves us with a small shield against that world when his show is over in the form of fond memories and shared enjoyment.

You're more likely to come out of a George Carlin show more angry at the world than when you went in.

And that's not comedy.

That's not entertainment.

That's blogging.

[maxineholtzmann]

Hey new friends! If you're here because of my recent ficlet, I have a longer steddie fic on ao3 you might be interested in! Here's a snippet:

PROJECT EASY-BAKE

ONE - WEDNESDAY, MARCH 26th, 1986

Max Mayfield was up to something. She’d popped over on Sunday to ask for flour. Then again on Tuesday. Now it was Wednesday and here she was on Eddie’s front porch again.

“I need to borrow 2 cups of flour,” she said flatly, holding the same red plastic mixing bowl she’d been holding the last two times.

“Wow, no ‘Hi Eddie, you’re such a great neighbour, how are you doing’? This is the third time this week you’ve asked for flour. What the hell are you baking and why are you baking it in such high quantities? ” Eddie crossed his arms, leaning on the door frame of his trailer.

“None of your business, Edward. If you don’t have any I can just go ask Mrs Murphy down the road,” Max started to turn away, moving exaggeratedly slowly, glancing sidelong back at Eddie to see if he would stop her. Of course he was going to stop her–Mrs Murphy would trap her in her trailer for the next six hours if she went over there.

“Fine–you can have the flour. But I do think I deserve some kind of explanation about what it’s all for and why you haven’t just gone to buy your own bag of flour by now,” Eddie stepped back into the trailer, beckoning Max in. The girl turned, her braids whipping Eddie’s chest lightly as she stalked past him to the kitchen.

“Yeah, because I can just carry a whole bag of flour home from the grocery store on my skateboard,” Max said, rolling her eyes as she set the bowl down on the counter. She made quick work of locating the bag of flour in the cupboard and grabbing the measuring cup off the counter where she had left it the day before.

“Couldn’t Harrington take you? I know he chauffeurs all you freshmen around for whatever reason. I saw his car here on Monday,” Eddie was on a fishing expedition. He’d been trying all year to figure out why his little sheep were all obsessed with Steve Harrington of all people–maybe Max was his way in.

Max grimaced slightly, measuring out the first cup of flour carefully into the bowl, “Normally, yeah I could ask him. But not for this.”

“What, does he have a vendetta against the grocery store or something?” Eddie hopped up on the counter next to her.

“Get your ass off the counter, that’s not sanitary,” Max lightly shoved his legs, getting flour on his black jeans.

“If you think anything in this kitchen is sanitary , Red, you’d be incorrect. Stop changing the subject–what is all of this for? And why on god’s green Earth do you not want Harrington to know about it?” Eddie scooted closer as Max carefully measured out the second cup of flour.

She paused, considering. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

Eddie perked up, of course , he should have thought of this earlier. “Oh, so that’s it. You have a crush on Harrington. I mean, he’s a bit old for you, but I can see the appeal–”

“What? No! Ew! He’s like my weird hybrid brother-mom.” Max looked at him like he had five heads. “It’s his birthday next Tuesday and I’m trying to bake him a cake but every time I try it turns out disgusting. Sunday it was burnt and yesterday it was raw in the middle! He does a lot for us and I know no one else even knows when his birthday even is and I wanted to do something…nice, for once. If you tell anyone I said that I’ll kill you.”

“How do you know when his birthday is, then?” Eddie hopped down off the counter, leaning against it instead.

“I stole his wallet, saw his driver’s license,” Max shrugged, as if it was obvious. She dusted off her hands and closed up the bag of flour, placing it back in the cupboard.

“Wait, do you mean to tell me that Harrington’s birthday is April Fool’s Day ?” Eddie said after a moment, calculating in his head Tuesday’s date.

“Yes, and you are not allowed to tell anyone ,” Max said, scooping up her bowl of flour and pointing a finger up at him.

“What are you gonna do if I do, fight me?” Eddie scoffed outwardly, but he was a little sure that Mayfield could take him if she wanted to. She was small but scrappy.

Max rolled her eyes, “Oh Edwin, I don’t need to fight you. I know where you sleep and I own scissors. I’ll just cut your hair off in the night.” She smiled up at him sweetly.

Eddie yelped, hands instinctively going to his hair, as if by holding onto it he could prevent it from being cut.

“Now let’s go–I need adult supervision,” Max grabbed Eddie’s arm and hauled him out of the trailer. “And don’t think I forgot about your ability to ‘see the appeal’ of Steve.” She waggled her eyebrows at his stunned silence as she dragged Eddie across the road to her trailer.

Walking into the Mayfield’s trailer, it became apparent to Eddie almost immediately that Max’s mom was drinking again–there were beer bottles and cans all over the coffee table, side tables and dining table. The only surface clear of empties was the kitchen counter, which currently was covered in an assortment of baking ingredients and utensils.

“Okay, so the recipe says we need sugar, butter, eggs, cocoa, milk, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Here–” Max thrust a whisk into Eddie’s hands, “You can be my human mixer.”

“So it’s not so much ‘adult supervision’ and more ‘you don’t want to mix the batter by hand yourself’?” Eddie raised an eyebrow, but got to work whisking together the dry ingredients as Max measured and dumped them into the bowl.

“Look, if you help me with this, I can help you with your extremely sad crush on Steve.” Max continued measuring ingredients.

“I do not under any circumstances have a crush on Steve. I just want to know why all of you seem to worship him. Henderson won’t shut up about him! It’s all ‘Steve this’ and ‘Steve that’! He is far too beefy and hairy and tall and covered in tiny moles and clean and OH NO.” Eddie dropped the whisk, staring off into the middle distance in horror as he realized that he did in fact, under all circumstances, have a crush on Steve Harrington. And he had just admitted it to his child neighbour. Who was friends with Steve.

“There it is,” Max patted him on the arm. “Now get back to whisking.”

read the rest of Project Easy Bake on ao3!

[reasoningdaily]

Eddie Murphy's RAW - Italian's After They Have Seen Rocky [HD]