It’s another Mid August Tuesday, bitches! And yooooouuu know what that meeeeeeans:

Fuck All.

It means Nothing. Not “nothing” in terms of relative unimportance or lack of distinguishing characteristics. Capital-N Nothing, as in a sheer and utter existential vacuum. An area of spacetime so flat and featureless as to somehow have inverse curvature. On Tuesday, August 9, 1983 a self-sustaining room-temperature fusion reaction was spontaneously achieved in the microwave of a Gas ‘n Fill service station in Owasso, Oklahoma. After 3 hours it winked out of existence, because it was far too interesting of an event for an August Tuesday.

Sorry. I’ll stop.

Even the NFL news is boring shit that Should Not Be News:

-The Falcons, of all teams, are the first to reach 100% vaccinated status. Congratulations on finally having a lead you can’t blow, Atlanta.

-The Raiders will require proof of vaccination for fans at home games, which I presume will mean those guys who stand on the Strip and hand out escort cards will have a new aspect to their business.

-Urban Meyer finally admitted that without the help of a crack squad of murderers and ineligible players, even he couldn’t make Tim Tebow a Thing at the professional level.

We all knew this was coming. No one on the Jags thought he’d make the roster  It was a transparent media stunt, and it WORKED. Despite being Openly Ridiculous, the move meant  various Tebow jerseys were the Top Five Sellers on NFLShop less than 24 hours after signing. More than actual Jacksonville savior-in-waiting Trevor Lawrence. More than Tom Terrific. Answer me this: is there a more sought-after, more easily-manipulated group in modern America than White Evangelicals? Is it because critical thinking skills are actively discouraged in favor of being spoon-fed comforting but illogical bullshit?

There is Absolutely Fuck All of any interest on television tonight, other than perhaps Lego Masters. MLB continues its Three Quarters deathmarch, with the only interesting race being whether MLB has the stones to pull the trigger on suspending Trevor Bauer for the season before this week-to-week bullshit forces them to decide whether letting him back for the playoffs is worth the PR nightmare.

The NBA “Summer League” is going on. The WNBA is going on. Woo.

After last week’s smashing success of bringing FDR: American Badass to the masses’ attention, I’m going to slip you another Obscure Movie Hot Tip: Death at a Funeral (2007).

PLEASE NOTE: This is NOT the 2010 Chris Rock remake. It was…fine…but lacked the style and timing of the original by Frank Oz.

Yes, Yoda/Fozzie/Cookie Monster Frank Oz. He’s also a genius director, giving us Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Little Shop of Horrors and the criminally-underrated What About Bob?

The premise is simple: an extended English family gathers for the funeral of the patriarch. Hilarity ensues.  I don’t want to give too much away, but there’s sex, money, drugs, poop jokes and Peter Dinklage.

It’s also a who’s-who of people in other stuff you recognize. Matthew Macfayden (Succession, et al), Rupert Graves (Sherlock), Ewan Bremner (Trainspotting), Peter Vaughan (GoT) and Jane Asher (Paul McCartney’s girlfriend). It also stars Alan Tudyk, who you BETTER recognize from Firefly, Resident Alien, A Knight’s Tale, Dodgeball and Rogue One.

It’s a great movie. Good date night.