Let this be a lesson to all you aspiring television journalism students out there: when running a Kevin Everett story, double check to make sure the video matches the script. Especially when the video involves…well…just watch:

We cannot tell a lie…that’s the funniest thing we’ve seen in a while. You get the feeling it was someone’s last day on the job at News 12 and they wanted to go out on a high.

[Thanks once again to El Bobcato for the clip.]

Hey there, fans of entertainment and entertainment-related news! Boy, have we got a treat in store for you!

Way back in the mid-1960s, a young centaur galloped out of ancient Greece and straight into the hearts of North American children everywhere…in North America. That centaur’s name was Newton, star of The Mighty Hercules, a popular cartoon that ran from 1963 to 1966 (and for over two decades more in syndication).

Known for his trademark high-pitched voice and repeating everything he said twice, Newton played Hercules’ loyal, but trouble-making, sidekick. Week after week, the red-headed rascal would stumble into some kind of prickly mess (”Look out, Herc! It’s the Hyyyyyddrrraaa!”), and it would be up to Hercules to come down off Mount Olympus and save the day.

What's Newton up to? No good, I'll bet!

When the show ended, Newton disappeared from the television scene. Most simply assumed he was dead, and moved on. Never ones to assume, we at Food Court Lunch did some digging and, wouldn’t you know it, a lucky scroll through a California phonebook revealed a listing. Fast forward two weeks and many voicemail messages later, and we had nailed down a telephone interview with the half-man himself, straight from his bachelor apartment in Burbank!

Over the course of an eleven-minute conversation, we caught up with Newton, now 52 [ed. - where does the time go?], on what’s been keeping him busy, Disney films, his ol’ pals l’il Toot and Herc, and some of those wacky rumours about the crazy times they used to have on the show!

We hope you enjoy this trip down memory lane as we proudly present, “Catching up with…Newton: Boy Centaur for the Ages!”

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If you are anything like the Food Court Lunch team, you’ve had a night when you’ve been pants-around-the-ankles drunk at 1:30 a.m. in Little Korea looking for something to do. You begrudgingly admit that male prostitution is unseemly, but you just want to have a good time with a large object in your hands that is brought to your mouth repeatedly. What could you possibly do to entertain yourself? We have four words (painfully pronounced) for you, dear readers:

+ ++=

KARAOKE! (Trust us, it works).

As self-proclaimed karaoke afficionados (”karaokexperts”), the members of the Food Court Lunch team have been privy to any number of breaches of karaoke etiquette over the years. We have suffered in silence for far too long, forced to endure innumerable sub-par performances and flagrant disregard for the Karaoke Kode.

But no more! Adopting Emanuel Lewis’ mantra, we have decided to say “No!”, then “Go”, and “Tell” our story to the masses in the hopes of restoring integrity to this lost art. And so we present to you, our esteemed readers, the definitive Guide to Karaoke…

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In a deleted scene from Quentin Tarantino’s 1994 film “Pulp Fiction”, one of the characters, Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman), asks another character, Vincent Vega (John Travolta), a series of questions prefaced by the following theory:

“Now I’m gonna ask you a bunch of quick questions I’ve come up with that more of less tell me what kind of person I’m having dinner with. My theory is that when it comes to important subjects, there’s only two ways a person can answer. For instance, there’s two kinds of people in this world, Elvis people and Beatles people. Now Beatles people can like Elvis. And Elvis people can like the Beatles. But nobody likes them both equally. Somewhere you have to make a choice. And that choice tells me who you are.”

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This article was briefly posted, then corrected, this afternoon. Glad to see that The Canadian Press is all over this newfangled U-Tube thing. Next on their technological agenda: typewriters for all employees!

Gentlemen (and, of course, “the ladies”), start your engines… 

Do you know what’s awesome? Tron. Do you know what else is awesome? NASCAR! Everyone knows it, and anyone who suggests otherwise hates God and America. The difficulty lies not in the recognition of the self-evident truth of NASCAR’s awesomeness, but rather in the identification of precisely what makes NASCAR so damn super-fantastic. It possesses what the French call a certain “I don’t know what” that is hard to describe in mere words…

Is it the thrill of watching ”athletes” drive for 500 miles in a concentric circle at high speeds, without even the slightest variation lap to lap? Is it the way that the pretty cars are painted in all the colours of the rainbow, like an episode of ‘Pimp My Ride’ meets ‘Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’? Or is it the glee that one experiences when witnessing the union of so many first cousins in the parking lot of the raceway (or “speedway” or “trailer park”)? I don’t know - I am not a scientist. What I do know is that NASCAR is God’s greatest creation (alongside the foamdome beer hat and Jessica Simpson), and it should be respected as such.

What concerns me, however, is the fact that there are people out there who have never had the pleasure of attending a NASCAR event in person. To me, this is like going through life without having experienced the pleasures of a nice box of wine - it hardly seems a life worth living. Nonetheless, I have always been a philanthropist at heart, and I want nothing more than to help these indigent souls. To this end, I present a day in the life of NASCAR…

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If you don’t know who Ken Danby is, go fuck yourself. He died this weekend at age 67 in Algonquin Park while canoeing. Unlike the idiot mime mentioned in a post below, Danby actually did something worthwhile, namely creating iconic paintings about Canada’s game:

Food Court Lunch’s attempts to have Danby swapped in the afterlife with either Alan Eagleson or Gary Bettman have been unsuccessful so far. We’ll keep you posted.

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http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/article/259673

Marcel Marceau, the world’s most famous mime, died this weekend at age 84. I suppose that I should use this space to write some sort of tribute or eulogy, but the instant that I saw that picture above I wanted to punch him in the face. BAM! — My fist grinding into the bridge of his nose. I’m sure his death is a great loss to the world of mime (which, as I understand, is located very close to Middle Earth), but I really couldn’t care less. All I can think of are my knuckles caked with blood and white pancake make-up.

Stop fake crying or I’ll give you something to real cry about.

Exclusive Food Court Lunch trivia: Marcel Marceau is the longest surviving mime in history. Most mimes are smothered by their parents in childhood. In every country except France, this is not a crime.

More Exclusive Food Court Lunch trivia: I wasn’t sure if “pancake make-up” was the correct word to use above, so I googled it. This was one of my first results.

 
Not pictured: P. Diddy

Since the dawn of Mankind, Man has searched for more efficient means to visit harm upon his fellow man.  Eons of progress have taken us from the rock, to the spear, to the firearm as suitable means to overcome the subversive forces of Natural Selection. 

 
Pictured: Don Cheadle stabbing a Food Court Lunch intern

But the recent wave of globalization and disintegration of the nuclear family have contributed to a marketplace rife with a myriad of choices for those intending to harm others (and in certain cases, themselves).

As a public service, the editors of Food Court Lunch have scoured the Internets to bring you the newest and most innovative ways to deliver pain upon your neighbours.  Just in time for the Christmas buying season, we have helpfully categorized the weapons by population segment most likely to use each particular weapon.

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Little Boy: “Daddy, why are those men wearing those masks?”
Father: “Well, son…sometimes…when a half-male loves another half-male…”

Does this conversation sound familiar?

Let’s face it: today’s modern sports environment is no longer the family friendly haven it once was.  Scandal is nothing new to sports; the 1919 Black Sox probably set the all-time benchmark for fan disillusionment.  But back then it was easy to keep your children sheltered from the bad stuff.  The only mainstream media outlet was the newspaper (the radio would not be invented for another 40 years) and, with all that time spent working in factories and pleading for more gruel, kids didn’t have time to learn how to read.

GET BACK TO WORK, TWIST!

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