Categories
LEARNING DAY

Learning Day: How to Murder Your Wife 🌭

Sometimes when you see a movie from the 1960s with all of those glamorous costumes, elaborate sets, and live animals, you think, wow, they would never make this today! Then there are times when you see a movie from the 1960s with those glamorous costumes and those scenes where a man drugs two women for a bit and convinces a jury that murder should be legal if your wife is really annoying, and you think thank God they would never make this today! Related: check out this authentic movie poster for How To Murder Your Wife, complete with the insinuation that you poison women via the vagina? Or try strangling! There are five great options, starring Jack Lemmon; in Technicolor!

In 1965 the best way to lure a woman to a movie theater was with threats! A second tagline for this movie was, “Bring the little woman. Maybe she’ll die laughing!” This makes perfect sense as a marketing strategy for this movie because its thesis is that women aren’t afraid enough of men. 

Society would be better if only women were more afraid of men. Who would write that? A maniac on the inside of a used pizza box in Times Square? No, How To Murder Your Wife is the first feature film from the screenwriter who adapted Breakfast At Tiffany’s and The Manchurian Candidate into movies. Unpleasant fact: both of those movies featured white men playing Asians in ways that had even the ancient people of the ’60s saying, “Hold on, whoa, wait a second.”

How to Murder Your Wife is categorized as a dark comedy, but it’s way darker today than in 1965. If there was a This Has Aged Poorly Olympics, How To Murder Your Wife would steal all of the medals and smelt them into a golden statue of a man slapping a woman on the ass while winking.

It’s also, and I’m used to using this term as only the highest compliment, extremely gay. The main character, Stanley Ford, is a bachelor who lives with, as the movie constantly refers to him, “his man.” Every day his man greets him after work with a martini in a chilled glass. His man cooks for him, cleans for him, and otherwise does all of the things a bachelor would normally need a wife for. How can Stanley Ford afford a man? He’s in the bustling media business, which will surely never collapse. 

Stanley draws spy cartoons, but he always acts them out first, which is why the first woman we see in this movie is being removed from a shipping container. She’s a storage device for a belly button diamond that contains spy microfilm. “Women: Better than Tupperware Because You Can French Them” was another proposed tagline for this film.

Stanley Ford’s bachelorhood is interrupted when he impulsively marries the stripper from his friend’s stag party. Her name is, hahaha, she doesn’t get a name. What is this 1996? Stanley never asks. Not at first, and then never for the entire movie. Everyone addresses her as Mrs. Ford and that’s how she’s credited.

Cake Woman has the most insane backstory in movie history. She’s an Italian Miss Universe contestant whose clothes were stolen, and she was somehow forced to find a job wearing only a bathing suit and speaking no English. So stripper was the only job she could get? It feels like the studio bristled at the idea of an actual stripper involved in the plot of this movie, so they made her a silly Italian virgin who accidentally found herself covered in whipped cream and dancing as if Mr. Bean slipped on a banana peel into an erotic photoshoot. 

Stanley is immediately trapped in this marriage. His lawyer says his wife hasn’t given him grounds for divorce, and they already consummated the marriage, so his evil nemesis/beloved bride has Stanley right where she wants him. Because he’s so invested in acting out all of his comics, Stanley has his spy main character get married too.

I really wanted to know how people reacted to this movie when it was released. I got that it was supposed to be a dark comedy but I couldn’t tell if it was criticizing the feminist movement in the U.S. or men’s reaction to the movement? It’s hard to tell who the butt of the joke is in this movie, but maybe it was more apparent in 1965? I’ve googled How To Kill Your Wife so many times this week that if I were to disappear in a mysterious accident, my husband would be in big trouble. 

I found a review from the New York Times, and it didn’t help. It was mostly obsessed with how hot the actress who plays Cake Woman (Virna Lisi) is. They end by saying, “wait until the women see this picture-especially those who are not yet wed and those (alas, their name is legion) who haven’t got what Miss Lisi has!” Which essentially translates to, “hoo boy ugly women will hate this movie, and there are a lot of ugly women out there.” I think that provides the needed context for how things were going for women when this movie came out.

Stanley’s life is turned upside down by his new wife, and so is his comic, which has changed from Bash Brannigan Spy to The Brannigans, a cute domestic story where Stanley is a bumbling idiot. He’s miserable, but there’s nothing he can do about it aside from something insane like, talk to his wife, maybe ask her name? MADNESS. The only thing a man should know about his wife is her blood type in case he ever needs a kidney.

Eventually he decides to regain some control over his life by murdering  his wife in the comic. Since he always acts out his comics to make sure they are plausible, he has to plan the perfect murder. There’s this big deal about what a good murder he’s come up with and it turns out he’s just going to drug her and toss her in a cement machine at a construction site. This is the vanilla ice cream of murder plots and he’s so proud of himself. 

He even walks by a store with a mannequin that looks like his wife, runs inside, and buys it. It’s not a mannequin store. He walked into a normal clothing store and was like, “I’ll give you any amount of money for the mannequin in the window. It looks just like my hot, hot wife.” That’s how committed to this fake murder he is. He’s willing to make some poor store clerk the first person to look up mannequin fetish in the dictionary.

Then he drugs his wife with a fun party drug called “goofballs” that doctors in 1965 gave to any middle-aged white men who looked trustworthy. You know, the exact description of all serial killers. He also drugs his wife’s shrill friend as a joke. He thought it would be funny, and he had the extra drugs, so why not! They both do silly dances on top of a piano and then pass out. 

Stanley carries his wife out of the party, then switches her for the mannequin and crawls out the window of their townhouse to throw the dummy into a cement mixer while his man films the whole thing for non-mannequin fetish purposes (supposedly). Stanley stays up all night drawing the murder into the cartoon and then falls asleep next to it. Unknown to Stanley, his wife wakes up, sees the cartoon, and leaves him. He later tells his lawyer she must have gotten angry about “some little thing,” AKA the fact that he murdered her in effigy. 

Unfortunately, publicly debuting a murder plot for your hot wife right before she mysteriously disappears is not a great look. Some crazy people get it into their heads that Stanley murdered his wife, and they’re weirdly uncool about it. Stanley can’t prove his wife isn’t dead because he doesn’t seem to know a single piece of identifying information about her, including where she’s from beyond the nation of Italy. He can’t do much to find her beyond look in any big cakes he might run across, so he gets put on trial for her murder. 

Now I’d like you to think of the darkest possible ending for this movie. It might be that Stanley gets the electric chair for murdering his wife because he couldn’t ask her one simple question about herself. It might be a reveal that Stanley has a rare STD called junky penis that makes his penis absolutely terrible. It’s still there, but it’s bad, and everyone knows it just by looking at him. Or, it might be that Stanley admits to murdering his wife but talks the all-male jury into letting him off anyway, as a lesson to scare their wives into behaving lest they also be murdered, because that’s what actually happens

The men lift Stanley on their shoulders and carry him out of the courtroom in triumph, while the women, in one of the saddest scenes in cinema history, quietly stare into space and contemplate their mortality. The answer to how do we control these crazy women was right there all along. All we had to do was threaten to murder them! The world’s most effective negotiation strategy. 

Stanley returns home to his happy bachelor life, only to find that his wife is back! His man points out that he can now legally murder her without being tried for the crime again because of double jeopardy laws. He also happens to have a gun on him, so he loads it up and hands it over, fully expecting Stanley to shoot this woman, but for some reason, Stanley doesn’t murder his wife! 

That’s…a happy ending? I mean, he can still legally murder her at any time. That card is in his back pocket, but, yeah, it’s a happy ending, I guess. And they all lived…well, they all lived!


This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme, Tom Sekula: Who will now turn up on Google results for “how to murder your wife.”

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UPSETTING DAY

Upsetting Day: Written in the Stars

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UPSETTING DAY

Upsetting Day: Michael Jackson Speaks from Heaven

We love stories about cults, but for every successful, charismatic cult leader who can’t seem to do any wrong in the eyes of his followers, there’s some guy out there getting up every morning and doing the hard work of being a maniac for no reason. Matthew Payne is such a painfully lousy grifter that reading his terrible book felt like being held up at gunpoint by three toddlers in a trench coat.

I don’t usually give advice on creating cynical ploys to steal from people, but I think if you’re going to claim that you’re a prophet from God, you should have a splashy story. Something like “I was struck by lightning while holding a bible and a hamburger phone and now I can talk to God and also have a deep spiritual connection to the beef industry” or something. There’s none of that here. There’s just a series of books where a man claims to interview various celebrities from Heaven while just barely maintaining a wafer-thin veneer of believing his own bullshit. And the first celebrity he started with was famously uncontroversial pop star, Michael Jackson.

Seriously, this guy made a website for his prophetic ministries that says right on it: “My ministry objective is to sell my books for 99 cents on Kindle unless I am giving them away.” L. Ron Hubbard would come back to life just to shit his pants if someone put on the Scientology website that the goal of Scientology was to sell books and not cure people of sadness, ghosts, or whatever.

He also says that the Lord “put it in his heart” to request donations for his personal prophecies which he sells on his website. So, God is a capitalist, apparently. The Lord has called upon me to tell you to donate to 1900HOTDOG.com that we may fill our coffers with radical shit like a whole bunch of skateboards and whatever Sean and Brockway want, probably more skateboards I assume. 

On top of personal prophecies, he also offers “trips to heaven,” which seem to take place over Zoom and cost one hundred dollars, BUT they are difficult to coordinate because Heaven is in a different time zone, so if you’re unable to connect to Heaven the prophet will graciously refund you fifty dollars! This is in no way a perpetual fifty dollars machine created by a con artist exclusively for the very stupid.

I’m uncomfortable with any process in which the final step is, “Go on a trip to Heaven,” but the fact it’s only $100 somehow makes it even shadier. If someone offered me a trip to Mexico for $100, I’d be suspicious. It seems like a trip to Heaven should cost more?

My final complaint about this author, before we get into how Michael Jackson feels about Heaven, is that he talks about religion very sexually. His Amazon author bio describes how he “receives great pleasure from interacting with people on Facebook” and calls himself a “passionate lover” of Jesus who hopes you will also come to know him “intimately.” It feels like he wrote it using a thesaurus for sex words only, but somehow in the only bad way.

Anyway, I know you’re dying to hear how Michael Jackson feels about Heaven. He’s hanging out with Whitney Houston, Princess Diana, and Steve Jobs, all of whom Matthew will be interviewing later. His only real concern in the afterlife is how the Amazon reviews for Matthew’s book will be. 

As an author, I agree that being crucified and getting a bad Amazon review are essentially the same thing. Seriously though, Micheal Jackson’s number one concern from Heaven is shilling this book so hard you’d think he was auditioning for Heaven’s QVC. 

The key to getting into Heaven is only ninety-nine cents on Amazon, you guys! Free if you subscribe to Kindle Unlimited. The bad news is Heaven, as described in this book, sounds like it sucks shit. I don’t want to be forced by God to return to Earth and shill eBooks for Matthew someday. 

Also, Heaven has a mandatory weekly American Idol competition with a terrible scoring system that must have hundreds of thousands of entrants, and it’s all worship music. Everyone in Heaven has to listen to and score ALL of the songs in the competition. Jesus forces you to watch American Idol every week and then go to a big party for the winner. Here, I’ll let the maniac explain:

In this scenario, Heaven is less entertaining than a Burger King. Michael Jackson had the option to stay in Heaven and enjoy his American Idol victory or go to Burger King and tell Matthew about it –along with every tiny detail about the rules of it– and he picked Burger King. He’s friends with Elvis and Michael Hutchence in Heaven, but he picked Matthew, at Burger King, to immediately rush to with this news. 

Michael Jackson talks about Matthew a lot in the book. He really seems to enjoy hyping Matthew up. Telling him how good his book is, which is a little arrogant since it’s a book largely about Michael Jackson, and how anyone who says the book is bad should be prayed for because they are probably going to hell. Don’t worry guys; I’m not going to hell for bashing this book; it’ll be for that thing I did last summer. (Told Sarah Palin to go on The Masked Singer). 

Another dumb thing about Heaven is no one is horny. Zero horniness at all in Heaven. Automatically I’m out. Heaven is a place where you don’t like big butts, and you cannot lie. How do you have fun!?

Ok, this man sounds chronically horny. Like his boners haunt him. So I can understand the appeal of a lack of lust in Heaven to him. There’s also a section in this book about there being no judgment in Heaven, and it heavily implies people judge each other too much for things like infidelity, even if they and their wife have moved on. Feels very specific to a particular situation, but oh well it’s probably something from Michael Jacksons’ personal life he’s not ready to share publicly yet.

Other than weekly American Idol, Michael keeps busy in Heaven by doing motivational speaking. Yes, this implies there is a lack of motivation in Heaven, and men who think they know how to fix it. Ok, it’s just hitting me now; this may be Matthews’s version of Heaven, but he’s definitely describing my Hell. Me and Tony Robbins, both very unaroused, listening to six thousand worship songs a week. 

Weirdly, Michael Jackson only seems to have knowledge that he admits Matthew also has. I think we’re supposed to be impressed that Michael knows so much about Matthew’s inner thoughts, but that’s like asking me to be impressed that a children’s party magician knew there was going to be a rabbit in his hat.

The eternal spirit of Michael Jackson does casually mention he was murdered, and later implies it was by the Illuminati because he says his one regret in life was getting involved with the Illuminati instead of getting closer to Jesus. I get that, though; the Illuminati throw way better parties. 

I’m so offended by the idea that Michael Jackson would come down from Heaven to tell a story about meeting a guy at a Burger King to talk about the judging rules for The Dead Got Talent, meanwhile skipping over the part where he was murdered by the Illuminati. The man was an entertainer. He would know how to write a more compelling narrative than this! Even Matthew seems to know that people were probably hoping for some juicer Michael Jackson gossip than they got, because this is how he ended the book: 

He wasn’t too busy to visit Burger King, but he was too busy to explain how the Illuminati murdered him? Burger King! If I were going to come back from Heaven to a burger restaurant it would be, at minimum, a Five Guys. He really needs to improve his burger restaurant of choice if he’s going to make me believe the Illuminati murdered Michael Jackson.  

After reassuring you that he knows you probably didn’t like the book, Matthew finishes up by straight-up threatening you with the wrath of God if you make fun of it. He dares you to “negatively promote” this book on the penalty of going to hell. Apparently, God is super invested in Amazon reviews.

As someone raised in the church, I know that “I’ll pray for you” is the Christian “Fuck off.” It says, “You have done something that needs praying for. You might not be aware of it yet, but luckily I am, so I’ll ask God to forgive you, but you know he probably won’t.” It’s a savage way to end a book that I’m confident was dictated from a weird Simon Cowell-produced Hell.

Categories
FUCKING DAY

Fucking Day: Unofficial Steve Buscemi Merch Review 🌭

I have a lot of respect for people who are fans of Steve Buscemi as a concept. No particular favorite role, they like that Steve Buscemi exists, and they want to celebrate that with Steve Buscemi merch. However, Steve Buscemi doesn’t sell Steve Buscemi merch for some unfathomable reason, so the world at large has taken care of it for him with mixed results

There’s some truly glorious Steve Buscemi merchandise out there that is painstakingly handmade with care, and then there are the cynical unlicensed cash grabs. Somewhere in between lies this handmade five thousand dollar

Before you’re like, that’s way too expensive for a single plate, let me first say the shipping for the Buscemi plate v5 is free! Also, it’s one of a kind, handmade; no one else has ever considered or will ever consider making this plate ever again. The Etsy seller who made it, LocalArtGlassPDX,  surprisingly sells mostly glass Christmas ornaments and, way less surprisingly, bongs. 

They only have five plates total in their shop. Three of them feature realistic looking fake pigeon shit all over the plate, and the final one is also a Steve Buscemi plate! If Steve Buscemi plate v5 is too pricey for you, perhaps consider the more reasonable but less detailed Buscemi v3 at only two thousand, two hundred dollars. The existence of a version three and version five of this plate means that three people are currently displaying a four-digit priced Steve Buscemi relic in their homes.

What is this plate commemorating about Steve Buscemi? His simple existence. At least three people are so hyped about Steve Buscemi that when people come over for dinner, they break out the good dinnerware, and it’s this– the actor drifting indifferently through the cosmos with chicken drumsticks. But if you’d like a more religious take on the star of Con Air and Billy Madison, maybe consider a…

Just because the glassblower who made those beautifully intricate plates didn’t also make Steve Buscemi Christmas ornaments doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Feast your eye on this purveyor of holiday spirit:

Even Steve Buscemi looks surprised and impressed to find himself on this Christmas ornament. I like Steve Buscemi better than most Christmas mascots. If I had the option to meet, in person, Frosty The Snowman or Steve Buscemi, I’m definitely going Buscemi, so I guess why not put him on my Christmas tree? He’s never made anyone’s holiday worse, unlike that son of a bitch, The Grinch, who keeps showing up every single year. And speaking of always being there for you, you should see… 

Now you might be asking yourself,”If people like Steve Buscemi so much, are there Steve Buscemi body pillows?” Naturally, this was your first thought, right? Everyone immediately wondered and then Googled that exactly like I did; phew. Great! Because there is not only one Steve Buscemi Body Pillow, there are multiple Steve Buscemi body pillows.

I think this is my personal favorite Buscemi body pillow because it’s the Buscemiest. Other body pillows that try to do an artist rendering of Steve Buscemi make him a little too handsome, and it renders him unrecognizable. 

Who is this man? He’s blond? Is this somehow knockoff-knockoff Steve Buscemi merch? It feels at least twice removed from what Steve Buscemi actually looks like. This looks like a police sketch of Clay Aiken on an awkward date with Kevin Spacey. The shop that sells this mostly has pillows featuring hot, buff, shirtless, actors and then they’re like, “Oh, also, here’s Steve Buscemi! What hold does this man have on the world?” For instance, look upon the…

This Steve Buscemi comforter is on the opposite end of the Steve Buscemi attractiveness scale. Here Steve Buscemi looks way less attractive than he really is, to the point that he’s legally a goblin. Do we as a society have any actual goddamn idea what this man looks like? Is Steve Buscemi a walking Rorschach test? And, unrelated,  does he kind of look like a Father who doesn’t think his daughter is living up to her full potential to anyone else? I’m writing for a prestigious hot dog website, dad blanket!

My most controversial Steve Buscemi opinion is that any single piece of Steve Buscemi merchandise alone is ok to own, but if you walk to someone’s house and they have a Steve Buscemi body pillow on top of this Steve Buscemi comforter, and you don’t immediately walk right back out, whatever happens next is your fault. There were signs.

The Steve Buscemi discomforter also comes in Gordon Ramsey and Danny Devito, which I get. Those are Buscemi-tier famous people. Oddly, this comforter’s place in its world makes more sense to me than any other Buscemi product. Luckily, understanding something doesn’t mean you have to like it. But no one could possibly not like a nice…

I’ve seen celebrity cookie cutter heads on Etsy for everyone from JoJo Siwa to Kim Jong Un, so I wasn’t surprised that I found Steve Buscemi Cookie Cutters. Though I was a little surprised that they were sold out on Amazon. So many people want to eat Steve Buscemi’s face! 

I guess because lots of other celebrities have cookie cutters, I’m going to say this is Lawful Neutral Steve Buscemi merchandise. In America, we celebrate great acting by giving people little golden statues of a bald man and consuming their visage in pastry form. But in no country should we allow a…

The best review for this product says. “…taking it to work with me. My coworkers will hate it!” Which makes me understand the target audience for this. They’re young; they’re hip; they’re ok with their desk looking like Ed Gein’s bachelor pad. I Googled “steve buscemi alive?” after seeing this just to make sure. 

I have to say this facial expression does radiate big dick energy. That mousepad is trying to fuck you, but in a respectable way. Once again, I have to ask what the hell does Steve Buschemi look like? And am I into it or not? Do I want to go out on the town in…

We’ve got Buscemi dresses, scrunchies, leggings, and T-shirts. I get this unauthorized use of Steve Buscemi’s image. You have to wear something to cover your no thank you bits and sinner buds, and sometimes you want to accomplish that while also reminding people of the concept of Steve Buscemi. They’ll, if they’re not monsters, thank you for it.

These clothes make a statement, and that statement is, Steve Buscemi, he’s a guy! Remember him? He was in The Big Lebowski, I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry! I like him enough to put a hundred pictures of his face on my body because, why not? In fact, why not make your wedding vows on a…

Buyers claim this ring is “Almost as perfect as Steve Buscemi himself.” It’s available in multiple finishes, including gold plating, for $92 dollars. 

Imagine the power of fucking someone up with this ring on. Imprinting ɘvɘt5 imɘꜿ5u8 right on their forehead. People will ask your opponent if they got beat up by some kind of prototype military robot, and they’ll have to shamefully reply, “No, just the wife of a man who really loves Steve Buscemi.”

Let’s take a quick break on our…

Another advantage of Steve Buscemi controlling his own merch line would be that he could, on occasion, pass on a product. No man dreams of having his face on a toilet seat. And yet, Steve Buscemi has lived what other men dare not even dream of.

How is this the best picture of Steve Buscemi on this damn list? The most talented artist on here put his work on a toilet seat? This came from a Google image search, it’s no longer for sale, and the website no longer exists, but I found proof that it was sold at some point, and several other celebrity toilet seats that were created along with it, including Barack Obama and Daniel Radcliffe. Maybe it was part of some overarching artistic statement about how celebrity is toilet?

My one critique of this artwork is that if I were going to have a celebrity on my toilet seat, I wouldn’t want them to have a look on their face that said they’re only mildly impressed by my quickly incoming genitalia. He should look blown away by whatever’s going on down there. That would be a real self-esteem builder! This look is a little too perplexed for me. It says, “Hm, I’ve never seen one that looked like that before,” which is the last thing you want a celebrity toilet seat to say to your crotch. 

Well, when I make myself a celebrity toilet seat expression expert, it’s probably time to wrap up an article. Please don’t reach out to me with your description of Steve Buscemi. I’m truly afraid everyone sees a different man when they look at him, and now that I’ve discovered that fact, a dark cabal of Hubie Halloween fans are going to hunt me. 


This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Patrick Herbst, who is as valuable to us as an unlicensed Steve Buscemi plate. Exactly as valuable. Certainly not more.

Categories
FUCKING DAY

Fucking Day: Love n’ Dancing

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FUCKING DAY

Fucking Day: Acapulco H.E.A.T.

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