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Full Turner Classic Movies (North American) Schedule for the Month of August, 2020. (All airtimes E.S.T.)

2020.07.31 12:43 tombstoneshadows28 Full Turner Classic Movies (North American) Schedule for the Month of August, 2020. (All airtimes E.S.T.)

Saturday, August 01, 2020 (BARBARA STANWYCK day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (suspense) Gambling Lady (1934/66 m/Archie Mayo)
  2. (7:15 AM) (western) Annie Oakley (1935/90 m/George Stevens)
  3. (9:00 AM) (romance) B.F.'s Daughter (1948/108 m/Robert Z. Leonard)
  4. (11:00 AM) (suspense) Crime Of Passion (1957/86 m/Gerd Oswald)
  5. (12:30 PM) (western) The Moonlighter (1953/78 m/Roy Rowland)
  6. (2:00 PM) (drama) East Side, West Side (1949/108 m/Mervyn LeRoy)
  7. (4:00 PM) (suspense) The Two Mrs. Carrolls (1947/99 m/Peter Godfrey)
  8. (6:00 PM) (romance) Clash by Night (1952/105 m/Fritz Lang)
  9. (8:00 PM) (comedy) Ball of Fire (1941/112 m/Howard Hawks)
  10. (10:00 PM) (crime)Double Indemnity (1944/108 m/Billy Wilder)
  11. (12:00 AM) (drama) Meet John Doe (1941/123 m/Frank Capra)
  12. (2:15 AM) (suspense) The Mad Miss Manton (1938/80 m/Leigh Jason)
  13. (4:00 AM) (suspense) Lady of Burlesque (1943/90 m/William A. Wellman)
Sunday, August 02, 2020 (ROCK HUDSON day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (western) Winchester '73 (1950/92 m/Anthony Mann)
  2. (8:00 AM) (drama) Something Of Value (1957/113 m/Richard Brooks)
  3. (10:00 AM) (comedy) A Fine Pair (1969/89 m/Francesco Maselli)
  4. (12:00 PM) (drama) All That Heaven Allows (1955/89 m/Douglas Sirk)
  5. (1:45 PM) (premiere) The Golden Blade (1953/81 m/Nathan Juran)
  6. (3:15 PM) (drama) Written on the Wind (1957/99 m/Douglas Sirk)
  7. (5:15 PM) (adventure) Ice Station Zebra (1968/149 m/John Sturges)
  8. (8:00 PM) (comedy) Pillow Talk (1959/102 m/Michael Gordon)
  9. (10:00 PM) (drama) Magnificent Obsession (1954/108 m/Douglas Sirk)
  10. (12:00 AM) (drama) Giant (1956/201 m/George Stevens)
  11. (3:45 AM) (comedy) Pretty Maids All In A Row (1971/91 m/Roger Vadim)
Monday, August 03, 2020 (RITA HAYWORTH day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (western) Renegade Ranger (1938/59 m/David Howard)
  2. (7:15 AM) (comedy) Susan And God (1940/117 m/George Cukor)
  3. (9:15 AM) (comedy) Affectionately Yours (1941/88 m/Lloyd Bacon)
  4. (10:45 AM) (comedy) The Strawberry Blonde (1941/99 m/Raoul Walsh)
  5. (12:30 PM) (adventure) The Happy Thieves (1962/89 m/George Marshall)
  6. (2:15 PM) (musical) My Gal Sal (1942/104 m/Irving Cummings)
  7. (4:00 PM) (musical) Down to Earth (1947/101 m/Alexander Hall)
  8. (6:00 PM) (musical) Cover Girl (1944/107 m/Charles Vidor)
  9. (8:00 PM) (crime) The Lady From Shanghai (1948/87 m/Orson Welles)
  10. (10:00 PM) (suspense) Gilda (1946/110 m/Charles Vidor)
  11. (12:00 AM) (musical) Pal Joey (1957109 m/George Sidney)
  12. (2:00 AM) (musical) You Were Never Lovelier (1942/97 m/William A. Seiter)
  13. (4:00 AM) (western) The Wrath of God (1972/111 m/Ralph Nelson)
Tuesday, August 04, 2020 (S.Z. SAKALL day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (musical) It's A Date (1940/103 m/William A. Seiter)
  2. (7:45 AM) (musical) Cynthia (1947/98 m/Robert Z. Leonard)
  3. (9:30 AM) (western)San Antonio (1945/109 m/David Butler)
  4. (11:30 AM) (musical) Romance on the High Seas (1948/99 m/Michael Curtiz)
  5. (1:15 PM) (musical) Tea for Two (1950/98 m/David Butler)
  6. (3:00 PM) (musical) The Daughter of Rosie O'Grady (1950/105 m/David Butler)
  7. (4:45 PM) (drama) Embraceable You (1948/80 m/Felix Jacoves)
  8. (6:15 PM) (comedy) Never Say Goodbye (1946/94 m/James V. Kern)
  9. (8:00 PM) (musical) In the Good Old Summertime (1949/103 m/Robert Z. Leonard)
  10. (10:00 PM) (comedy) Christmas in Connecticut (1945/101 m/Peter Godfrey)
  11. (12:00 AM) (musical) Seven Sweethearts (1942/98 m/Frank Borzage)
  12. (2:00 AM) (musical) Lullaby of Broadway (1951/92 m/David Butler)
  13. (4:00 AM) (musical) The Student Prince (1954/107 m/Richard Thorpe)
Wednesday, August 05, 2020 (ANN MILLER day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (comedy) Room Service (1938/79 m/William A. Seiter)
  2. (7:45 AM) (comedy) You Can't Take It With You (1938/126 m/Frank Capra)
  3. (10:00 AM) (drama) Tarnished Angel (1938/67 m/Leslie Goodwins)
  4. (11:30 AM) (musical) Too Many Girls (1940/85 m/George Abbott)
  5. (1:15 PM) (premiere) Reveille with Beverly (1943/78 m/Charles Barton)
  6. (2:45 PM) (comedy) Watch the Birdie (1951/71 m/Jack Donohue)
  7. (4:15 PM) (comedy) The Great American Pastime (1957/89 m/Herman Hoffman)
  8. (5:45 PM) (musical) The Opposite Sex (1956/116 m/David Miller)
  9. (8:00 PM) (musical) Hit the Deck (1955/112 m/Roy Rowland)
  10. (10:00 PM) (musical) On the Town (1949/98 m//Gene Kelly)
  11. (12:00 AM) (musical) Kiss Me Kate (1953/110 m/George Sidney)
  12. (2:00 AM) (musical) Easter Parade (1948/103 m/Charles Walters)
  13. (4:00 AM) (musical) Small Town Girl (1953/93 m/Leslie Kardos)
Thursday, August 06, 2020 (BURT LANCASTER day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (western) Vengeance Valley (1951/83 m/Richard Thorpe)
  2. (7:30 AM) (drama) Jim Thorpe--All American (1951/105 m/Michael Curtiz)
  3. (9:30 AM) (adventure) The Flame and the Arrow (1950/88 m/Jacques Tourneur)
  4. (11:15 AM) (adventure) The Crimson Pirate (1952/104 m/Robert Siodmak)
  5. (1:15 PM) (crime) Brute Force (1947/98 m/Jules Dassin)
  6. (3:15 PM) (drama) Seven Days in May (1964/118 m/John Frankenheimer)
  7. (5:30 PM) (war) The Train (1964/133 m/John Frankenheimer)
  8. (8:00 PM) (drama) Elmer Gantry (1960/147 m/Richard Brooks)
  9. (10:45 PM) (drama) Birdman of Alcatraz (1962/149 m/John Frankenheimer)
  10. (1:30 AM) (drama) From Here to Eternity (1953/118 m/Fred Zinnemann)
  11. (3:45 AM) (drama) Atlantic City (1980/104 m/Louis Malle)
Friday, August 07, 2020 (SYLVIA SIDNEY day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (drama) One Third of a Nation (1939/76 m/Dudley Murphy)
  2. (7:30 AM) (drama) An American Tragedy (1931/95 m/Josef von Sternberg)
  3. (9:15 AM) (crime) City Streets (1931/83 m/Rouben Mamoulian)
  4. (11:15 AM) (drama) Street Scene (1931/79 m/King Vidor)
  5. (1:00 PM) (premiere) Mary Burns, Fugitive (1935/84 m/William K. Howard)
  6. (2:30 PM) (crime) You Only Live Once (1937/85 m/Fritz Lang)
  7. (4:15 PM) (crime) Dead End (1937/92 m/William Wyler)
  8. (6:00 PM) (drama) Fury (1936/92 m/Fritz Lang)
  9. (8:00 PM) (premiere) You And Me (1938/90 m/Fritz Lang)
  10. (9:45 PM) (premiere) Thirty Day Princess (1934/75 m/Marion Gering)
  11. (11:15 PM) (suspense) Sabotage (1936/77 m/Alfred Hitchcock)
  12. (12:45 AM) (drama) Les Misérables (1952/106 m/Lewis Milestone)
  13. (2:45 AM) (drama) Summer Wishes, Winter Dreams (1973/88 m/Gilbert Cates)
  14. (4:30 AM) (drama) The Wagons Roll At Night (1941/84 m/Ray Enright)
Saturday, August 08, 2020 (CHARLIE CHAPLIN day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (silent) The Rounders (1914/11 m/Charles Chaplin)
  2. (6:15 AM) (silent) The Knockout (1914/27 m/Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle)
  3. (7:00 AM) (silent) The Pilgrim (1923/41 m/Charles Chaplin)
  4. (7:45 AM) (silent) A Dog's Life (1918/34 m/Charles Chaplin)
  5. (8:30 AM) (silent) The Kid (1921/53 m/Charles Chaplin)
  6. (9:30 AM) (silent) The Gold Rush (1925/89 m/Charlie Chaplin)
  7. (11:15 AM) (silent)The Circus (1928/72 m/Charles Chaplin)
  8. (12:45 PM) (comedy) Monsieur Verdoux (1947/124 m/Charles Chaplin)
  9. (3:00 PM) (romance) Limelight (1952/138 m/Charles Chaplin)
  10. (5:30 PM) (comedy) The Great Dictator (1940/125 m/Charles Chaplin)
  11. (8:00 PM) (silent) City Lights (1931/87 m/Charles Chaplin)
  12. (9:45 PM) (silent) Modern Times (1936/87 m/Charlie Chaplin)
  13. (11:30 PM) (comedy) A King in New York (1957/105 m/Charles Chaplin)
  14. (2:15 AM) (silent) Pay Day (1922/22 m/Charles Chaplin)
  15. (2:45 AM) (silent)Sunnyside (1919/30 m/Charles Chaplin)
  16. (3:30 AM) (silent) The Idle Class (1921/33 m/Charles Chaplin)
  17. (4:15 AM) (silent) Shoulder Arms (1918/38 m/Charles Chaplin)
  18. (5:00 AM) (silent) A Day's Pleasure (1919/18 m/Charles Chaplin)
  19. (5:30 AM) (comedy) Mabel's Married Life (1914/12 m/Mack Sennett)
Sunday, August 09, 2020 (GOLDIE HAWN day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (comedy) Protocol (1984/95 m/Herbert Ross)
  2. (8:00 AM) (romance) Swing Shift (1984/100 m/Jonathan Demme)
  3. (10:00 AM) (comedy) Best Friends (1982/109 m/Norman Jewison)
  4. (12:00 PM) (comedy) There's a Girl in My Soup (1970/96 m/Roy Boulting)
  5. (2:00 PM) (comedy) Cactus Flower (1969/104 m/Gene Saks)
  6. (4:00 PM) (drama) Butterflies Are Free (1972/109 m/Milton Katselas)
  7. (6:00 PM) (comedy) Seems Like Old Times (1980/102 m/Jay Sandrich)
  8. (8:00 PM) (crime) Foul Play (1978/116 m/Colin Higgins)
  9. (10:00 PM) (premiere) The First Wives Club (1996/105 m/Hugh Wilson)
  10. (12:00 AM) (comedy) Shampoo (1975/110 m/Hal Ashby)
  11. (2:00 AM) (crime) $ (Dollars) (1971/121 m/Richard Brooks)
  12. (4:15 AM) (premiere) Crisscross (1992/101 m/Chris Menges)
Monday, August 10, 2020 (NORMA SHEARER Day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (silent) The Student Prince in Old Heidelberg (1927/106 m/Ernst Lubitsch)
  2. (8:00 AM) (romance) The Last of Mrs. Cheyney (1929/94 m/Sidney Franklin)
  3. (10:00 AM) (drama) A Free Soul (1931/94 m/Clarence Brown)
  4. (11:45 AM) (drama) The Divorcee (1930/82 m/Robert Z. Leonard)
  5. (1:15 PM) (epic) Marie Antoinette (1938/157 m/W. S. Van Dyke II)
  6. (4:00 PM) (romance) Romeo and Juliet (1937/125 m/George Cukor)
  7. (6:15 PM) (romance) Her Cardboard Lover (1942/93 m/George Cukor)
  8. (8:00 PM) (comedy) The Women (1939/133 m/George Cukor)
  9. (10:30 PM) (romance) Smilin' Through (1932/98 m/Sidney Franklin)
  10. (12:30 AM) (romance) The Barretts Of Wimpole Street (1934/110 m/Sidney Franklin)
  11. (2:30 AM) (comedy) Private Lives (1931/84 m/Sidney Franklin)
  12. (4:15 AM) (romance) We Were Dancing (1942/95 m/Robert Z. Leonard)
Tuesday, August 11, 2020 (SAMMY DAVIS, JR. day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (comedy) Pepe (1960/158 m/George Sidney)
  2. (9:00 AM) (crime) Johnny Cool (1963/102 m/William Asher)
  3. (11:00 AM) Rufus Jones For President (1933/21 m/Roy Mack)
  4. (11:30 AM) (comedy) One More Time (1970/93 m/Jerry Lewis)
  5. (1:30 PM) (drama) Convicts 4 (1962/106 m/Millard Kaufman)
  6. (3:30 PM) (musical) Robin and the 7 Hoods (1964/123 m/Gordon Douglas)
  7. (5:45 PM) (comedy) Ocean's 11 (1960/127 m/Lewis Milestone)
  8. (8:00 PM) (drama)Anna Lucasta (1958/97 m/Arnold Laven)
  9. (9:45 PM) (drama) A Man Called Adam (1966/104 m/Leo Penn)
  10. (11:30 PM) (musical) Sweet Charity (1969/148 m/Bob Fosse)
  11. (2:15 AM) (premiere) Tap (1989/110 m/Nick Castle Jr.)
  12. (4:15 AM) (comedy) Smorgasbord (1983/90 m/Jerry Lewis)
Wednesday, August 12, 2020 (LANA TURNER day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (comedy) Love Finds Andy Hardy (1938/91 m/George B. Seitz)
  2. (8:00 AM) (drama) Cass Timberlane (1947/119 m/George Sidney)
  3. (10:00 AM) (drama) A Life of Her Own (1950/108 m/George Cukor)
  4. (12:00 PM) (musical) The Merry Widow (1952/105 m/Curtis Bernhardt)
  5. (2:00 PM) (drama) Betrayed (1954/109 m/Gottfried Reinhardt)
  6. (4:00 PM) (drama) The Bad and the Beautiful (1952/118 m/Vincente Minnelli)
  7. (6:00 PM) (comedy) Bachelor in Paradise (1961/109 m/Jack Arnold)
  8. (8:00 PM) (drama) Peyton Place (1957/157 m/Mark Robson)
  9. (11:00 PM) (drama) Madame X (1966/100 m/David Lowell Rich)
  10. (1:00 AM) (crime) The Postman Always Rings Twice (1946/113 m/Tay Garnett)
  11. (3:00 AM) (romance) Latin Lovers (1953/104 m/Mervyn LeRoy)
  12. (4:45 AM) (romance) Two Girls On Broadway (1940/73 m/S. Sylvan Simon)
Thursday, August 13, 2020 (JOHN BARRYMORE day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (silent) Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1920/68 m/John S. Robertson)
  2. (7:15 AM) (silent) Don Juan (1926/112 m/Alan Crosland)
  3. (9:15 AM) (silent) When A Man Loves (1927/112 m/Alan Crosland)
  4. (11:15 AM) (drama) State's Attorney (1932/79 m/George Archainbaud)
  5. (12:45 PM) (drama) Rasputin and the Empress (1932/121 m/Richard Boleslavsky)
  6. (3:00 PM) (drama) Night Flight (1933/85 m/Clarence Brown)
  7. (4:30 PM) (suspense) Bulldog Drummond Comes Back (1937/59 m/Louis King)
  8. (5:45 PM) (musical) Maytime (1937/132 m/Robert Z. Leonard)
  9. (8:00 PM) (drama) Grand Hotel (1932/113 m/Edmund Goulding)
  10. (10:00 PM) (comedy) Dinner at Eight (1933/111 m/George Cukor)
  11. (12:00 AM) (premiere) Night Club Scandal (1937/70 m/Ralph Murphy)
  12. (1:30 AM) (comedy) Arsene Lupin (1932/84 m/Jack Conway)
  13. (3:00 AM) (horror) Svengali (1931/81 m/Archie Mayo)
  14. (4:30 AM) (comedy) The Great Man Votes (1939/72 m/Garson Kanin)
Friday, August 14, 2020 (STEVE McQUEEN day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (comedy) The Honeymoon Machine (1961/87 m/Richard Thorpe)
  2. (7:30 AM) (comedy) Soldier in the Rain (1963/87 m/Ralph Nelson)
  3. (9:00 AM) (drama) An Enemy of the People (1978/107 m/George Schaefer)
  4. (11:00 AM) (war) The Sand Pebbles (1966/179 m/Robert Wise)
  5. (2:00 PM) (crime) The Getaway (1972/123 m/Sam Peckinpah)
  6. (4:15 PM) (crime) Bullitt (1968/114 m/Peter Yates)
  7. (6:15 PM) (drama) The Cincinnati Kid (1965/103 m/Norman Jewison)
  8. (8:00 PM) (romance) The Thomas Crown Affair (1968/102 m/Norman Jewison)
  9. (10:00 PM) (war) The Great Escape (1963/172 m/John Sturges)
  10. (1:00 AM) (adventure) Papillon (1973/151 m/Franklin J. Schaffner)
  11. (3:45 AM) (war) Never So Few(1959/124 m/John Sturges)
Saturday, August 15, 2020 (NINA FOCH day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (musical) Fast Company (1953/68 m/John Sturges)
  2. (7:15 AM) (crime) Escape in the Fog (1945/63 m/Oscar Boetticher Jr.)
  3. (8:45 AM) (musical) Sombrero (1953/103 m/Norman Foster)
  4. (10:30 AM) (horror) Cry of the Werewolf (1944/63 m/Henry Levin)
  5. (12:00 PM) (crime) The Dark Past (1948/74 m/Rudolph Maté)
  6. (1:45 PM) (adventure) Scaramouche (1952/115 m/George Sidney)
  7. (4:00 PM) (romance) Cash McCall (1960/102 m//Joseph Pevney)
  8. (6:00 PM) (drama) Executive Suite (1954/105 m/Robert Wise)
  9. (8:00 PM) (musical) An American in Paris (1951/113 m/Vincente Minnelli)
  10. (10:15 PM) (suspense) My Name Is Julia Ross (1945/65 m/Joseph H. Lewis)
  11. (11:30 PM) (crime) Illegal (1955/88 m/Lewis Allen)
  12. (1:15 AM) (crime) The Undercover Man (1949/84 m/Joseph H. Lewis)
  13. (3:00 AM) (suspense) I Love A Mystery (1945/69 m/Henry Levin)
  14. (4:30 AM) (comedy) Young Man With Ideas (1952/85 m/Mitchell Leisen)
Sunday, August 16, 2020 (CARY GRANT day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (romance) Sylvia Scarlett (1935/95 m/George Cukor)
  2. (8:00 AM) (romance) Topper (1937/97 m/Norman Z. McLeod)
  3. (10:00 AM) (comedy) Bringing Up Baby (1938/102 m/Howard Hawks)
  4. (11:45 AM) (comedy) His Girl Friday (1940/92 m/Howard Hawks)
  5. (1:30 PM) (comedy) The Talk Of The Town (1942/117 m/George Stevens)
  6. (3:45 PM) (comedy) Arsenic and Old Lace (1944/118 m/Frank Capra)
  7. (6:00 PM) (comedy) Room For One More (1952/95 m/Norman Taurog)
  8. (8:00 PM) (suspense) To Catch A Thief (1955/106 m/Alfred Hitchcock)
  9. (10:00 PM) (suspense) Charade (1963/113 m/Stanley Donen)
  10. (12:15 AM) (comedy) Dream Wife (1953/99 m/Sidney Sheldon)
  11. (2:15 AM) (drama) Crisis (1950/96 m/Richard Brooks)
  12. (4:00 AM) (comedy) Once Upon a Honeymoon (1942/115 m/Leo McCarey)
Monday, August 17, 2020 (MAUREEN O'HARA day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (suspense) Jamaica Inn (1939/99 m/Alfred Hitchcock)
  2. (8:00 AM) (drama) A Woman's Secret (1949/85 m/Nicholas Ray)
  3. (10:00 AM) (suspense) The Fallen Sparrow (1943/94 m/Richard Wallace)
  4. (12:00 PM) (western) The Rare Breed (1966/97 m/Andrew V. McLaglen)
  5. (2:00 PM) (adventure) At Sword's Point (1951/81 m/Lewis Allen)
  6. (3:45 PM) (adventure) Sinbad the Sailor (1947/117 m/Richard Wallace)
  7. (6:00 PM) (adventure) The Wings of Eagles (1957/110 m/John Ford)
  8. (8:00 PM) (horror) The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1939/117 m/William Dieterle)
  9. (10:15 PM) (comedy) Miracle on 34th Street (1947/96 m/George Seaton)
  10. (12:00 AM) (drama) This Land Is Mine (1943/103 m/Jean Renoir)
  11. (2:00 AM) (comedy) Sitting Pretty (1948/84 m/Walter Lang)
  12. (3:45 AM) (drama) Spencer's Mountain (1963/118 m/Delmer Daves)
Tuesday, August 18, 2020 (WARREN BEATTY day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (comedy) Promise Her Anything (1966/97 m/Arthur Hiller)
  2. (8:00 AM) (comedy) Kaleidoscope (1966/103 m/Jack Smight)
  3. (10:00 AM) (crime) Mickey One (1965/93 m/Arthur Penn)
  4. (12:00 PM) (drama) Lilith (1964/114 m/Robert Rossen)
  5. (2:00 PM) (drama) The Roman Spring of Mrs. Stone (1961/104 m/José Quintero)
  6. (3:45 PM) (drama) Splendor in the Grass (1961/124 m/Elia Kazan)
  7. (6:00 PM) (crime) Bonnie and Clyde (1967/111 m/Arthur Penn)
  8. (8:00 PM) (epic) Reds (1981/195 m/Warren Beatty)
  9. (11:30 PM) (crime) Bugsy (1991/136 m/Barry Levinson)
  10. (2:00 AM) (western) McCabe & Mrs. Miller (1971/121 m/Robert Altman)
  11. (4:15 AM) (comedy) The Fortune (1975/88 m/Mike Nichols)
Wednesday, August 19, 2020 (DOLORES DEL RIO day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (silent) The Trail of '98 (1928/88 m/Clarence Brown)
  2. (7:45 AM) (suspense) What Price Glory (1926/121 m/Raoul Walsh)
  3. (10:00 AM) (musical) I Live For Love (1935/64 m/Busby Berkeley)
  4. (11:30 AM) (premiere) Devil's Playground (1937/73 m/Erle C. Kenton)
  5. (1:00 PM) (adventure) The Man From Dakota (1940/75 m/Leslie Fenton)
  6. (2:30 PM) (drama) Journey Into Fear (1942/68 m/Norman Foster)
  7. (4:00 PM) (drama) The Fugitive (1947/100 m/John Ford)
  8. (6:00 PM) (romance) More Than a Miracle (1967/103 m/Francesco Rosi)
  9. (8:00 PM) (adventure) Bird of Paradise (1932/82 m/King Vidor)
  10. (9:45 PM) (musical) In Caliente (1935/84 m/Lloyd Bacon)
  11. (11:30 PM) (musical) Flying Down To Rio (1933/89 m/Thornton Freeland)
  12. (1:15 AM) (drama) Madame Du Barry (1934/79 m/William Dieterle)
  13. (3:00 AM) (western) Cheyenne Autumn (1964/155 m/John Ford)
Thursday, August 20, 2020 (WILLIAM POWELL day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (romance) The Key (1934/71 m/Michael Curtiz)
  2. (7:30 AM) (suspense) The Kennel Murder Case (1933/73 m/Michael Curtiz)
  3. (9:00 AM) (musical) The Great Ziegfeld (1936/176 m/Robert Z. Leonard)
  4. (12:00 PM) (suspense) The Thin Man (1934/91 m/W. S. Van Dyke II)
  5. (2:00 PM) (suspense) Another Thin Man (1939/103 m/W. S. Van Dyke II)
  6. (4:00 PM) (comedy) I Love You Again (1940/99 m/W. S. Van Dyke II)
  7. (6:00 PM) (comedy) Libeled Lady (1936/98 m/Jack Conway)
  8. (8:00 PM) (premiere) The Senator Was Indiscreet (1947/81 m/George S. Kaufman)
  9. (9:45 PM) (comedy) Life with Father (1947/118 m/Michael Curtiz)
  10. (12:00 AM) (drama) One Way Passage (1932/67 m/Tay Garnett)
  11. (1:30 AM) (romance) Jewel Robbery (1932/68 m /William Dieterle)
  12. (3:00 AM) (romance) Reckless (1935/97 m/Victor Fleming)
  13. (4:45 AM) (comedy) High Pressure (1932/73 m/Mervyn LeRoy)
Friday, August 21, 2020 (DIANA DORS day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (crime) Good Time Girl (1948/91 m/David MacDonald)
  2. (7:45 AM) (drama) Oliver Twist (1948/116 m/David Lean)
  3. (9:45 AM) (comedy) Here Come the Huggetts (1948/93 m/Ken Annakin)
  4. (11:30 AM) (crime) Man Bait (1952/78 m/Terence Fisher)
  5. (1:00 PM) (comedy) An Alligator Named Daisy (1957/88 m/J. Lee Thompson)
  6. (2:30 PM) (comedy) I Married a Woman (1958/84 m/Hal Kanter)
  7. (4:15 PM) (crime) King of the Roaring 20s: The Story of Arnold Rothstein (1961/106 m/Joseph M. Newman)
  8. (6:15 PM) (premiere) Danger Route (1967/89 m/Seth Holt)
  9. (8:00 PM) (crime) The Long Haul (1957/88 m/Ken Hughes)
  10. (10:00 PM) (premiere) The Weak and the Wicked (1954/81 m/J. Lee-Thompson)
  11. (12:00 AM) (crime) The Unholy Wife (1957/94 m/John Farrow)
  12. (2:00 AM) (horror) From Beyond the Grave (1973/98 m/Kevin Connor)
  13. (4:00 AM) (comedy) As Long As They're Happy (1957/87 m/J. Lee Thompson)
Saturday, August 22, 2020 (JOHN WAYNE day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (western) The Big Stampede (1932/54 m/Tenny Wright)
  2. (7:00 AM) (western) The Telegraph Trail (1933/54 m/Tenny Wright)
  3. (8:00 AM) (war) Flying Leathernecks (1951/102 m/Nicholas Ray)
  4. (10:00 AM) (comedy) Trouble Along the Way (1953/110 m/Michael Curtiz)
  5. (12:00 PM) (western) Angel And The Badman (1947/100 m/James Ed(war)d Grant)
  6. (2:00 PM) (western) 3 Godfathers (1949/106 m/John Ford)
  7. (4:00 PM) (western) Stagecoach (1939/96 m/John Ford)
  8. (5:45 PM) (western) Fort Apache (1948/128 m/John Ford)
  9. (8:00 PM) (western) The Searchers (1956/119 m/John Ford)
  10. (10:15 PM) (war) Operation Pacific (1951/109 m//George Waggner)
  11. (12:15 AM) (war) Back to Bataan (1945/95 m/Edward Dmytryk)
  12. (2:00 AM) (adventure) The Comancheros (1961/107 m/Michael Curtiz)
  13. (4:00 AM) (suspense) Big Jim McLain (1952/90 m/Edward Ludwig)
Sunday, August 23, 2020 (OLIVIA de HAVILLAND day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (comedy) The Male Animal (1942/101 m/Elliott Nugent)
  2. (8:00 AM) (comedy) Princess O'Rourke (1943/94 m/Norman Krasna)
  3. (10:00 AM) (drama) Light in the Piazza (drama/1962/102 m/Guy Green)
  4. (12:00 AM) (drama) In This Our Life (1942/97 m/John Huston)
  5. (1:45 PM) (adventure) Captain Blood (1935/119 m/Michael Curtiz)
  6. (4:00 PM) (western) Dodge City (1939/104 m/Michael Curtiz)
  7. (6:00 PM) (adventure) The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938/102 m/Michael Curtiz)
  8. (8:00 PM) (epic) Gone With the Wind (1939/238 m/Victor Fleming)
  9. (12:00 AM) (drama) The Heiress (1949/115 m/William Wyler)
  10. (2:15 AM) (drama) To Each His Own (1946/122 m/Mitchell Leisen)
  11. (4:30 AM) (comedy) Hard to Get (1938/82 m/Ray Enright)
Monday, August 24, 2020 (GEORGE RAFT day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (drama) Manpower (1941/103 m/Raoul Walsh)
  2. (8:00 AM) (suspense) Background To Danger (1943/80 m/Raoul Walsh)
  3. (9:30 AM) (suspense) Johnny Angel (1946/79 m/Edwin L. Marin)
  4. (11:00 AM) (crime) Race Street (1948/79 m//Edwin L. Marin)
  5. (12:30 PM) (adventure) Outpost in Morocco (1949/91 m/Robert Florey)
  6. (2:30 PM) (crime) Red Light (1949/83 m//Roy Del Ruth)
  7. (4:15 PM) (crime) A Dangerous Profession (1950/79 m/Ted Tetzlaff)
  8. (5:45 PM) (comedy) Some Like It Hot (1959/122 m/Billy Wilder)
  9. (8:00 PM) (drama) They Drive by Night (1940/95 m/Raoul Walsh)
  10. (10:00 PM) (crime) Each Dawn I Die (1939/92 m/William Keighley)
  11. (11:45 PM) (suspense) Nocturne (1946/87 m/Edwin L. Marin)
  12. (1:30 AM) (premiere) Loan Shark (1952/79 m/Seymour Friedman)
  13. (3:00 AM) (premiere) I'll Get You (1953/78 m/Seymour Friedman)
  14. (4:30 AM) (adventure) Invisible Stripes (1940/81 m/Lloyd Bacon)
Tuesday, August 25, 2020 (ANNE SHIRLEY day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (drama) Chasing Yesterday (1935/77 m/George Nicholls Jr.)
  2. (7:30 AM) (drama) A Man to Remember (1938/78 m/Garson Kanin)
  3. (9:00 AM) (comedy) Chatterbox (1936/68 m/George Nicholls Jr.)
  4. (10:15 AM) (romance) M'liss (1936/66 m/George Nicholls Jr.)
  5. (11:30 AM) (comedy) Make Way for a Lady (1936/65 m/David Burton)
  6. (1:00 PM) (comedy) Too Many Wives (1937/61 m/Ben Holmes)
  7. (2:15 PM) (drama) Mother Carey's Chickens (1938/82 m/Rowland V. Lee)
  8. (3:45 PM) (drama) Sorority House (1939/64 m/John Farrow)
  9. (5:00 PM) (drama) Unexpected Uncle (1941/67 m/Peter Godfrey)
  10. (6:15 PM) (adventure) Bombardier (1943/99 m/Richard Wallace)
  11. (8:00 PM) (drama) Anne of Green Gables (1934/78 m/George Nicholls Jr.)
  12. (9:30 PM) (premiere) Steamboat Round the Bend (1935/96 m/John Ford)
  13. (11:00 PM) (drama) Stella Dallas (1937/106 m/King Vidor)
  14. (1:00 AM) (suspense) Murder, My Sweet (1944/95 m/Edward Dmytryk)
  15. (2:45 AM) (drama) Saturday's Children (1940/102 m/Vincent Sherman)
  16. (4:30 AM) (musical) Music in Manhattan (1944/81 m/John H. Auer)
Wednesday, August 26, 2020 (LAURENCE OLIVIER day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (romance) Westward Passage (1932/73 m/Robert Milton)
  2. (7:15 AM) (comedy) The Divorce Of Lady X (1938/91 m/Tim Whelan)
  3. (9:00 AM) (romance) 21 Days (1940/75 m/Basil Dean)
  4. (10:30 AM) (romance) That Hamilton Woman (1941/125 m/Alexander Korda)
  5. (12:45 PM) (romance) Pride and Prejudice (1940/118 m/Robert Z. Leonard)
  6. (2:45 PM) (epic) Henry V (1944/137 m/Laurence Olivier)
  7. (5:15 PM) (drama) Hamlet (1948/154 m/Laurence Olivier)
  8. (8:00 PM) (romance) Wuthering Heights (1939/104 m/William Wyler)
  9. (10:00 PM) (romance) A Little Romance (1979/110 m/George Roy Hill)
  10. (12:00 AM) (drama) The Entertainer (1960/104 m/Tony Richardson)
  11. (2:00 AM) (comedy) The Prince and the Showgirl (1957/117 m/Laurence Olivier)
  12. (4:00 AM) (musical) The Beggar's Opera (1953/94 m/Peter Brook)
Thursday, August 27, 2020 (CLAUDETTE COLBERT day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (romance) Parrish (1961/138 m/Delmer Daves)
  2. (8:30 AM) (drama) The Secret Heart (1946/97 m/Robert Z. Leonard)
  3. (10:30 AM) (suspense) The Secret Fury (1950/86 m/Mel Ferrer)
  4. (12:15 PM) (comedy) It's a Wonderful World (1939/86 m/W. S. Van Dyke II)
  5. (2:00 PM) (comedy) Without Reservations (1946/101 m/Mervyn LeRoy)
  6. (4:00 PM) (war) Three Came Home (1950/105 m/Jean Negulesco)
  7. (6:00 PM) (drama) Tomorrow Is Forever (1946/104 m/Irving Pichel)
  8. (8:00 PM) (comedy) It Happened One Night (1934/105 m/Frank Capra)
  9. (10:00 PM) (comedy) The Egg And I (1947/108 m/Chester Erskine)
  10. (12:00 AM) (comedy) The Palm Beach Story (1942/88 m/Preston Sturges)
  11. (1:45 AM) (adventure) Drums Along the Mohawk (1939/104 m//John Ford)
  12. (3:45 AM) (adventure) Boom Town (1940/119 m/Jack Conway)
Friday, August 28, 2020 (PAUL HENREID day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (war) Joan of Paris (1942/91 m/Robert Stevenson)
  2. (8:00 AM) (drama) Deception (1946/112 m/Irving Rapper)
  3. (10:00 AM) (western) Song of Love (1947/118 m/Clarence Brown)
  4. (12:15 PM) (crime) Hollow Triumph (1948/82 m/Steve Sekely)
  5. (2:00 PM) (drama) In Our Time (1944/111 m/Vincent Sherman)
  6. (4:00 PM) (drama) Between Two Worlds (1944/112 m/Edward A. Blatt)
  7. (6:00 PM) (drama) Of Human Bondage (1946/106 m/Edmund Goulding)
  8. (8:00 PM) (romance) Now, Voyager (1942/117 m/Irving Rapper)
  9. (10:15 PM) (premiere) For Men Only (1951/93 m/Paul Henreid)
  10. (12:00 AM) (romance) Casablanca (1942/103 m/Michael Curtiz)
  11. (2:00 AM) (adventure) The Spanish Main (1945/101 m/Frank Borzage)
  12. (4:00 AM) (adventure) The Conspirators (1944/101 m/Jean Negulesco)
Saturday, August 29, 2020 (EVA MARIE SAINT day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (romance) The Sandpiper (1965/117 m/Vincente Minnelli)
  2. (8:00 AM) (documentary) Eva Marie Saint: Live From the TCM Classic Film Festival (2014/59 m/?)
  3. (9:00 AM) (war) 36 Hours (1964/115 m/George Seaton)
  4. (11:00 AM) (adventure) Grand Prix (1966/176 m/John Frankenheimer)
  5. (2:00 PM) (drama) All Fall Down (1962/110 m/John Frankenheimer)
  6. (4:00 PM) (western) The Stalking Moon (1968/109 m/Robert Mulligan)
  7. (6:00 PM) (drama) On the Waterfront (1954/108 m//Elia Kazan)
  8. (8:00 PM) (suspense) North by Northwest (1959/136 m/Alfred Hitchcock)
  9. (10:30 PM) (drama) A Hatful of Rain (1957/108 m/Fred Zinnemann)
  10. (12:30 AM) (drama) Raintree County (1957/166 m/Edward Dmytryk)
  11. (3:45 AM) (drama) Loving (1970/89 m/Irvin Kershner)
Sunday, August 30, 2020 (CHARLTON HESTON day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (suspense) Skyjacked (1972/101 m/John Guillermin)
  2. (7:45 AM) (adventure) The Wreck of the Mary Deare (1959/105 m/Michael Anderson)
  3. (9:30 AM) (horror) The Omega Man (1971/98 m/Boris Sagal)
  4. (11:15 AM) (adventure) The Three Musketeers (1973/107 m/Richard Lester)
  5. (1:15 PM) (epic) 55 Days at Peking (1963/154 m/Nicholas Ray)
  6. (4:00 PM) (epic) Ben-Hur (1959/222 m/William Wyler)
  7. (8:00 PM) (crime) Touch of Evil (1958/111 m/Orson Welles)
  8. (10:00 PM) (epic) Khartoum (1966/136 m/Basil Dearden)
  9. (12:15 AM) (adventure) Planet of the Apes (1968/112 m/Franklin J. Schaffner)
  10. (2:15 AM) (horror) Soylent Green (1973/97 m/Richard O. Fleischer)
  11. (4:00 AM) (drama) Number One (1969/105 m/Tom Gries)
Monday, August 31, 2020 (ALAIN DELON day)
  1. (6:00 AM) (romance) The Yellow Rolls-Royce (1964/123 m/Anthony Asquith)
  2. (8:05 AM) (suspense) Scorpio (1973/114 m/Michael Winner)
  3. (10:00 AM) (horror) Spirits of the Dead (1968/121 m/Roger Vadim)
  4. (12:15 PM) (drama) Once A Thief (1965/106 m/Ralph Nelson)
  5. (2:15 PM) (western) Red Sun (1971/115 m/Terence Young)
  6. (4:15 PM) (drama) Have I the Right to Kill (1963/102 m/Alain Cavalier)
  7. (6:00 PM) (crime) Purple Noon (1961/117 m/René Clément)
  8. (8:00 PM) (drama) Rocco and His Brothers (1960/179 m/Luchino Visconti)
  9. (11:15 PM) (premiere) Le Samourai (1967/105 m/Jean-Pierre Melville)
  10. (1:15 AM) (drama) L'Eclisse (1962/126 m/Michelangelo Antonioni)
  11. (3:30 AM) (western) Lost Command (1966/130 m//Mark Robson)
submitted by tombstoneshadows28 to movies [link] [comments]


2020.07.29 14:14 MulciberTenebras Turner Classic Movies (TCM) - The Full U.S. Schedule for August 2020, aka the "Summer Under the Stars"

Saturday - August 1st, 2020

Barbara Stanwyck

Sunday - August 2nd, 2020

Rock Hudson

Monday – August 3rd, 2020

Rita Hayworth

Tuesday - August 4th, 2020

S.Z. Sakall

Wednesday - August 5th, 2020

Ann Miller

Thursday - August 6th, 2020

Burt Lancaster

Friday - August 7th, 2020

Sylvia Sidney

Saturday - August 8th, 2020

Charlie Chaplin

Sunday - August 9th, 2020

Goldie Hawn

Monday - August 10th, 2020

Norma Shearer

Tuesday – August 11th, 2020

Sammy Davis Jr.

Wednesday - August 12th, 2020

*Lana Turner *

Thursday – August 13th, 2020

John Barrymore

Friday – August 14th, 2020

Steve McQueen

Saturday – August 15th, 2020

Nina Foch

Sunday - August 16th, 2020

Cary Grant

Monday - August 17th, 2020

Maureen O’Hara

Tuesday - August 18th, 2020

Warren Beatty

Wednesday - August 19th, 2020

Dolores Del Rio

Thursday - August 20th, 2020

William Powell

Friday - August 21st, 2020

Diana Dors

Saturday - August 22nd, 2020

Natalie Wood

Sunday – August 23rd, 2020

Olivia de Havilland

Monday – August 24th, 2020

George Raft

Tuesday – August 25th, 2020

Anne Shirley

Wednesday – August 26th, 2020

Lawrence Olivier

Thursday – August 27th, 2020

Claudette Colbert

Friday – August 28th, 2020

Paul Henreid

Saturday – August 29th, 2020

Eva Marie Saint

Sunday – August 30th, 2020

Charlton Heston

Monday – August 31st, 2020

Alain Delon

submitted by MulciberTenebras to movies [link] [comments]


2020.07.22 07:23 prabs1998 Kurt Russell

Who is Kurt Russell?
Kurt Rusell is an American actor, who started his acting career just at the age of twelve, as a child actor, appearing in different Disney films. In 1962, he made his first appearance in an episode of the series, Dennis the Menace, with an uncredited role. Meanwhile, he gained attention after his performance in biographical movies, Elvis. Since then appearing in numerous films and television series, he has been able to become an A list movie star from a child artist.
When and To Whom He Was Born?
Kurt was born on March 17, 1951, as the name Kurt Vogel Russell, in Springfield, Massachusetts, US. He was born to his father Neil Oliver 'Bing' Russell and his mother, Louise Julia. Likewise, he grew up along with his three sisters, Jill Russell, Jamie Russell, and Jody Russell. He has the star sign of Pisces.
Nationality, Ethnicity, Religion
Kurt Russell holds an American nationality, and as per ethnicity, he belongs to mixed of English, German, Scottish, and Irish. He belongs to Christian by religion.
Height and Weight
Kurt standing at the height of 5 feet 11 inches (1.8 m), and weighing about 80 kg (175 lbs), has been able to maintain his body fit and healthy. Additionally, his blue eye colour reflects his fantastic personality.
Wife
Kurt Russell is married twice. Firstly, he married an actress Season Hubley in 1979. Also, they have a son together, Boston, boron on February 17, 1980. However, in 1983, they divorced. Later, he started dating Goldie Hawn and also has a son, Wyatt Russell, together, born on July 10, 1986. Besides, he adopted Goldie Hawn's kids, Bill Husdon and Kurt Russell.
Net Worth
Along with earning name and fame, Kurt Russell has been able to make a handsome amount of money. He has an estimated net worth of about $70 million, as of 2020.
Career
As a child artist, he appeared in Sugarfoot. Then, at the age of 12, he appeared in The Travels of Jamie McPheeters. In 1964, he had an appearance in the TV series, The Fugitive, The Virginian, and Gunsmoke. The next year, he featured on Gilligan's Island. Meanwhile, in 1969, he signed a ten years contract with Walt Disney.
Kurt Russell starred in the film, Fools Parade in 1971. Then, in 1976, he appeared in the series, The Quest. Eventually, he became a nominee in Emmy Award for his performance in the television film, Elvis, where he had a lead role. Likewise, in 1981, he played in the movie Escape from New York, which became a huge critical as well as commercial success.
Furthermore, in 1982, he featured in The Thing. In 1984, he gained a Golden Globe nomination for the film, Silkwood. Kurt Russell starred in the movie Silkwood in 1984 and Big Trouble in Little China in 1986. Meanwhile, for his role in the action thriller film Backdraft, he gained three Academy Award nominations.
Similarly, his further movies from 1995 to 2005 include, Executive Decision, Breakdown, 3000 Miles to Graceland, Sky High, Dreamer, and Dark Blue, among several others. Likewise, he gained massive success from the film, Death Proof, The Hateful Eight, and Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2. Also, he has starred in The Fast and the Furious franchise, i.e., Furious 7, and The Fate of the Furious. His appearance in the film, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood gained positive reviews along with commercial success. Presently, he is busy with an upcoming movie, The Christmas Chronicles 2.
submitted by prabs1998 to u/prabs1998 [link] [comments]


2020.07.15 18:18 geoemrick Goal of watching every Zemeckis movie since BTTF is my favorite movie.....watching Death Becomes Her (1992) and this BTTF reference caught my eye. I knew it wasn't an accident the moment Goldie Hawn's character said the date

Goal of watching every Zemeckis movie since BTTF is my favorite movie.....watching Death Becomes Her (1992) and this BTTF reference caught my eye. I knew it wasn't an accident the moment Goldie Hawn's character said the date submitted by geoemrick to BacktotheFuture [link] [comments]


2020.05.18 15:04 DecievingLooks Kidcrash ‎- I Haven't Had A Date In 4 Years Goldie Hawn Goldie Hawn Goldie Hawn... [EP] (2005, Self-Released)

Kidcrash ‎- I Haven't Had A Date In 4 Years Goldie Hawn Goldie Hawn Goldie Hawn... [EP] (2005, Self-Released) submitted by DecievingLooks to Emo [link] [comments]


2019.11.28 00:43 BlancheFromage "Buddhism in Books, Newspapers, Film, and Television"

This site has a nice summary of all the places in the above media where Buddhism and the Nichiren magic chant (I know, NOT the same thing) have been mentioned. A few aren't related to SGI, but a surprising number are - take a look. I included video clips of the occurrences where I could find them:

Film

  • The Guru
New Zealand member Yvonne Tan sent in this sighting:
"'The Guru' with Heather Graham, Melissa Tomei and Jimi Mistry. There was a part where Melissa’s Character Lexi was on the bed with Jimi Mistry and she was meditating. They were about to make love (I think) and she suddenly started bowing to him and chanting Nam Myo Ho Renge Kyo!"
  • What's Love Got to Do With It?
Excellent bio-pic of the life of Tina Turner features her conversion to Nichiren Buddhism in several scenes.
  • Gross Pointe Blank
  • The Out-of-Towners
Muchas Gracias to Canadian member Karen Benoit for e-mailing the following:
"A 1997 film, starring John Cusack and Minnie Driver, is called 'Grosse Pointe Blank'. John is a hitman, named Martin Blank, who is sent to do a job in Grosse Pointe where, as it turns out, his 10-year high school reunion is taking place. At one point fairly early in the film, Minnie says to John: 'You know what you need? Shaka buku.'
He replies something like, 'What's that?'
Her answer (not verbatim) goes something like: 'It's a swift kick in your karmic butt.'."
[Web Goddess Note: the screenplay has this as 'It's a swift spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever.']
"The new re-make of 'The Out-of-Towners' with Steve Martin and Goldie Hawn also has a scene where Steve overhears people chanting."
  • The Last Detail
  • Innerspace
  • Atlantic City
Many thanks to John Gallagher for the following:
"The most famous of all is the film by Hal Ashby, 'The Last Detail' starring Jack Nicholson and featuring the young Randy Quaid as the unfortunate sailor sent to seven years hard labor for trying to steal a few dollars from a charity collect box. On the way to prison, he, Nicholson and another sailor attend a (then) NSA) meeting. I swear that one of the young ladies leading a Gakkai song is Gilda Radner. It is almost embarrassing to see how hokey the meeting was. But Randy starts chanting and does so devotedly for the rest of the film.
"Another film stars Martin Short and Dennis Quaid involving a machine which shrinks Quaid for him to be implanted in somebody's body. The film is "Innerspace". He chants vigorously as he is about to take a dangerous leap.
"Another film: 'Atlantic City', starring Burt Lancaster and Susan Sarandon. The pregnant "hippie chick" friend of Sarandon chants Nam Myoho Renge Kyo. Very brief occurrence you might overlook."
  • Revenge of the Nerds II
Evil fraternity boys have trapped the nerds, in their underwear, facing crocodiles. They burst into a group chant of "Nam-Myo-Ho-Renge-Kyo" in a desperate effort to invoke a miraculous escape.

Televison

Sakyamuni Buddha Guest Stars on 'South Park'
In the "Super Best Friends" episode of 'South Park', Sakyamuni Buddha is one of the Super Best Friends, along with Jesus, Mohammed, and Krishna, who band together to fight an evil cult. BONUS - In another episode of "South Park", God admits to being a Buddhist.
  • "The Simpsons"
In the episode "The Last Temptation of Homer", Homer has written a speech he wants to give to a co-worker on his hand. But his palms perspire and run the words together towards the end. Homer hence concludes his speech by chanting "Nam-Myo-Ho-Renge-Kyo".
This season, Lisa Simpson became a Vajrayana Buddhist.
  • "Absolutely Fabulous"
In the episode 'Fashion', Edina credits her house and her success in fashion with chanting Nam Myoho Renge Kyo. Edina is also seen in other episodes with a butsudan, prayer beads, and a bell in her bedroom. Note-In real life, Joanna Lumley (Patsy) is a Vajrayana (Tibetan) Buddhist.
  • "The Monkees"
In the final episode, "Mijacogeo (The Frodis Caper)", the Monkees ward off the evil of Wizard Glick by chanting Nam-Myo-Ho-Renge-Kyo.
(There is another example of chanting from later in the episode here.)
(Holy cow! I used to love The Monkees, and I don't remember THIS episode AT ALL!)

Newspaper & Magazine Articles Online

  • "Nichiren -- Art and Belief" at the Tokyo National Museum
  • "Thousands Convert to Buddhism in India" - Salon.Com
  • "Buddhism Lighted Way To Joy Within" - Washington Post
  • "Boomer Buddhism" - Salon.Com
  • "American Buddhists - Who Are They"? by Jan Nattier
  • Madonna - Propagator of Buddhism
From The Sun, UK, July 2, 2001:
MADONNA has sent a copy of 'A Buddhist Bible' to biographer Andrew Morton after finding out he is writing a warts-and-all book on her.
She included a note with the book - considered essential reading for all Buddhists - saying: "This will help you and make you a better person."
  • The Buddha at the Oscars!
2001 Best Actress Nominee Ellen Burstyn, on where she placed her previous Oscar, for 'Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore': "For a long time, it was sitting on a table in front of my Buddha lamp, facing the Buddha with its back to the room, and I said it was worshipping the Buddha."
  • Commemorative Stamp
    1975 Soka Gakkai International 2000 25th. Anniversary Uruguay Technical features: Code: 2000-27-C Date of issue: October 2nd, 2000 Value: $ 18.- Print-run: 25.000 Design: E. de Ogueta 

Comics

Matt Groening, creator of "The Simpsons", has featured Nam-Myo-Ho-Renge-Kyo in several of his "Life in Hell" weekly comic strips.

Books

  • The Exorcist
In an early passage, Chris MacNeil recalls her secretary, Sharon Spencer, meditating and chanting Nam-Myo-Ho-Renge-Kyo. "See", Sharon explains, "you just keep chanting that, Chris, just that, and you get your wish, you get everything you want..." Sharon is apparently closer to her Buddha-nature than most. She also tells Chris, "You can turn on the TV. It's fine. I can chant when there's all kinds of noise. It won't bother me a bit."
I added in all the links I could find. Enjoy!!
submitted by BlancheFromage to sgiwhistleblowers [link] [comments]


2019.07.13 19:46 newsfeedmedia Goldie Hawn, 73, and Kurt Russell, 68, go for romantic lunch date in St Tropez

Goldie Hawn, 73, and Kurt Russell, 68, go for romantic lunch date in St Tropez submitted by newsfeedmedia to newsfeedmedia [link] [comments]


2019.03.31 20:08 ravenlady88 Parents Pressuring Marriage

I'm 31F, my BF is 34M. I moved to TX from FL to live with bf in 4/18. Known each other for 6 years, dating long distance for 3 years. His parents are great all around: friendly, helpful, etc. BUT they are really starting to annoy me with constant marriage talk!
In 5/18 his mom suggested we could get married in Missouri in 6/18. I laughed and said "No. I haven't been here long enough."
Throughout summer 2018 my bf got marriage questions from his dad, "What's the next step of your relationship?"
BF always replies "I don't know, Dad..." or" To send her back to FL."
Fall/winter 2018 was my turn from his mom, "So, we're trying to get you married. What can we do?"
"Uuuhhhh..." I dorked. "Do you want to get married?" She asked.
"Yeah, one day." I mistakenly mumble. "Then what's the problem?" She's no longer blinking.
I explain to her that we only just started truly spending time together, I don't want him to feel pressure since he's been married before and the divorce was bad, and I just moved here. She pretty much brushed it off and tried to explain everything away. She then suggested an intervention time thing with her, the dad, and my bfs siblings.
I quickly said, "No!" And to keep her at bay for what I was hoping was a year or more, I told her "When I'm 33, maybe I'll start talking to him about marriage."
This hasn't worked out. Last week she introduced me to my bfs aunt as "Girlfriend...fiance...or something like that."
I told my bf this as part of a casual conversation and mentioned that she's introduced me that way 3-4 times. He got upset, "It's like saying you're less of person or don't mean anything because we aren't married."
The next day when he visited his parents, the aunt was there "I met your girlfriend! She's so nice, definitely a keeper."
He said "Yeah she is." His mom chirps "Hopefully enough to marry."
The thing is, we are happy where we're at right now. There isn't some desperate desire to do it, it's not a priority. We've told them this, more than once.
Sometimes I feel like we're being defiant/spiteful by always saying no to the marriage questions and not wanting to marry. We're getting more and more turned off to marriage. I'm worried that my bf and I will snap and be rude to them because our patience is wearing thin! I just want them to shut up and STOP.
What else can me and bf do? Hang on until they stop asking? Be passive aggressive? Dodge questions with jokes?Threaten to live like Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell?
TL;DR; My bfs parent are pushing marriage. How do we deal with it?
submitted by ravenlady88 to relationships [link] [comments]


2019.03.27 19:42 robobreasts Movies where rape is not treated like it's rape, or creepy behavior isn't portrayed as creepy

I can think of a few films that have the protagonists engaging in either blatant Rape By Deception or else sketchy, shady behavior, and the important part is that the movie itself never seems to notice this and treat it like everything is fine.
(There are tons of examples of bad behavior where the movie acknowledges it as bad behavior - that is not what I am interested in.)
Examples:
Revenge of the Nerds: one of the nerds wears a mask and has sex with a girl who thinks she is having sex with her boyfriend. This is blatant Rape By Deception. (The fact she decides she's fine with it because he was just that good is not relevant to the fact she didn't consent.)
Overboard: Kurt Russell's character lies to Goldie Hawn's character that they are married, after she gets brain damage. She has sex with him believing they are legally married, but that was a lie. She is in fact married to someone else at the time but can't remember. This is also Rape By Deception. Later she learns the truth and is horrified but then goes back to him because she loves him, but this does not excuse his actions.
Chasers: A man has sex with Erkia Eleniak's character while she is his prisoner. Is this rape? When they're done she takes the opportunity to escape, so does someone in custody have the ability to meaningfully consent? Was she prostituting herself so she could gain her freedom, or was it coercion? Sketchy as hell no matter what though.
Love Potion Number 9: The two protagonists spend a large portion of the movie using a mind-control potion on people and then having sex with them. Sandra Bullock's character uses it on one person to have a fake relationship, Tate Donovan's character uses it to have sex with a lot of different girls, mostly strangers. This is not portrayed as rape. Later, both of them have the potion used on them and hate it. (Sandra Bullock's character gets presumably raped by her ex boyfriend while she's under the influence of the potion, while the other protagonist is merely robbed.)
Mr. Destiny: Jim Belushi's character changes history so he's married to someone else. He still remembers his old life and doesn't remember his "new" life, but he has sex with his new wife anyway. Mentally he is committing adultery on his wife in the former timeline. Furthermore since he possesses none of the new timeline's memories, he's arguably not really the husband of the "new" wife either - is her consent meaningful, when from her point of view her husband was replaced by an alternate timeline version?
The Bobo: Peter Sellers comedy where the entire plot is he that he lies to a woman to manipulate her into having sex with him so he can win a wager. But she was a prostituty kind of man manipulator, so it's mostly seen as okay. When she finds out she threatens him with a gun and punishes him by making him get into a bathtub filled with blue die, turning him completely blue.
Sommersby: Richard Gere's character pretends to be another man (they both look almost exactly alike) and has sex with that man's wife. When did she suspect it wasn't her husband? Did she consent before, or retroactively consent later? I haven't seen this one in a while.
The Chase: Charlie Sheen's character kidnaps Kristy Swanson's character - they later have sex while she is still technically kidnapped, but at this point she knows the gun was fake and believes him to be innocent of the crimes for which he is being pursued. Legally though does he have genuine consent since she's still a hostage?
Clean Slate: the protagonist had an affair with his friend's wife and the movie never seems to realize this makes their main character a slimeball. He has amnesia so doesn't remember doing this, so we're supposed to still root for him.
Dreamscape: Dennis Quaid's character uses his power to enter Kate Capshaw's character's dream where they have sex in her dream. When she wakes up she's pissed. It was just a dream, and he was also dreaming, although probably more lucidly than she was.
Spider-Man: Mary Jane is dating Harry but makes out with Spider-Man, then goes right back to dating Harry. Neither Peter nor Mary Jane are implied by the movie to be uncool for doing this.
Brewster's Millions: The main character sexually harasses someone in his employ for most of the movie.
Guarding Tess: While Shirley McClaine's character is asleep in the back seat of the car, Nicholas Cage's character - ha ha just kidding, he was a perfect gentleman.
submitted by robobreasts to movies [link] [comments]


2019.02.22 03:25 rhonnie14 THROWBACK: The Real Reason Ariana Left Me (Never posted on NoSleep)

I don't handle break ups very well. I never have. So yeah, just in case you weren't aware, this last one has me pretty fucked-up.
My spirits are crushed. My frame of mind utterly skullfucked. My drive decimated. I mean yeah, I get like this after every break up. I always do. They're like premature burials for my soul. And the suffering always lingers for far longer than the joy I had while I was dating someone. But this one with Ari... well, it has to be the worst.
At this point, I can't even write. I haven't written shit in weeks. Almost all my hobbies die with my happiness it seems like. I just sit in my home office all night, staring at an unforgiving laptop screen. The booze and smoke does nothing. No books or movies fuel my creative drive. And of course, there's no Ariana around to encourage me.
It's now been almost a month since she dumped me. And the pain still feels fresh. Like I'm forever stuck in that sickening single moment when she told me she no longer loved me. A harsh time loop I can't escape.
I should be used to the bitter break ups by now. Love is like a roller coaster, you know. There's all those anxious moments in the build-up. The fun excitement. And then once you reach that top, the relationship ride is fucking transcendent. You've got optimism. You feel loved. You feel great... and you've got the entire future to feel this way! Things are wonderful. But then the inevitable happens. Like my goofy roller coaster analogy, those moments at the top are fleeting and all too brief before those relationships come hurtling back down. And just like that, the love is over. The joy is gone. You're back off the ride and desperate for that next thrill. Only as you get older, those thrills get so much harder to find...
I thought Ari was it. I thought she got me. I thought she loved me. I mean she loved my writing, my jokes, my creativity. She even thought I was super hot! And I'll be damned, if she didn't make me look more attractive... not because she would be standing next to me like a gorgeous accessory. But she actually helped give me fucking style pointers, man! A new haircut, new clothes... she motivated me to lose weight and get in shape. Yeah, it's superficial bullshit, I get that. But I felt better. I'd never felt as attractive or confident than with her. Being unconventionally handsome and eccentric will make you self-conscious, guys. It will give you nervous tics/habits that make you look spastic as fuck. But Ari took me out of that! She was like a pretty therapist. My pretty therapist.
And this therapist was also my creative partner. She pushed me in my writing. I wasn't just imagining this shit either... people actually laughed at my jokes more than they ever had before. SNL showed off more of my work. I became more prolific. And I was so damn consistent! My creative fire flourished like never before. Maybe I'd become more famous because of Ariana, but I rose to the challenge with excellent fucking material. Shit I was proud of too! I'm talking I'd spend hours in my office each night just cranking out brilliance. A mad scientist of comedy! I couldn't miss. At least, I felt that way. And I had no one except Ari to thank for that.
And not to brag but I feel like I had a similar effect on her music. She admired my prolific creativity. My vision. How hard I worked. And I know it rubbed off on her during those Sweetener sessions. On that album, she had more creative control than ever. She told me she felt like a true artist on this one. Better production value, more innovation, and she'd even written the vast majority of the songs. She was proud of her masterpiece and deservedly so. And Goddamn, she could sing! But then again, you lovely people already knew that.
Until I first heard Sweetener, I had no idea there was even a track named after me. A sweet, short track (About as long as our relationship, right! Yeah, I've only heard that bullshit a hundred times! ZOMG!1! still so Goddamn funny!1!11). But I could hear the emotion in her voice. The Ari I knew. Her tender emotions. She meant those lyrics. Every fucking word. We'll call it ninety seconds of bliss... and yeah, maybe our relationship was just five months of bliss. But it was still the best five months of my life. And naming a song for me was akin to John Belushi literally crawling out of the grave to tell me I was one of the funniest motherfuckers to ever come out of the SNL family. That song meant even more considering it wasn't high praise coming from my deceased idol but instead from my one true love.
And through it all, I dealt with all the bullshit. The low blows. Yeah, I mean motherfuckers like you assholes reading this. You're probably now talking about what a loser I am to be using a burner on Reddit while complaining about my beautiful-and-immensely-more-talented ex-girlfriend. Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second, thank you for reading this.
But yeah, the constant criticism got old, man. I get it. Ariana's gorgeous. I'm not. I'm sorry that the world and Twitter never considered me worthy of Ari. I'm sorry I could never live up to whatever Magic-Mike/Michael-B.-Jordan-level expectations you motherfuckers had. I'm just a geeky, neurotic comedy writer, alright. Yeah, I hit the jackpot with that girl. So fucking be it. He isn't worthy, he's creepy looking, what's she doing with his uglyass, he ain't even famous. I get it. You don't have to keep fucking reminding me. I'm in mourning now, Goddammit! And whether you like it or not, I loved Ariana. And she loved me.
Maybe I could've been better... and when Mac died, it hurt both of us. I didn't care about their history. Mac was my friend, he was a nice dude. I still bawled like a bitch when I heard what happened. Shit, I cried as much as Ariana did.
Ultimately, I really wish things had worked out between us, man. I really do... I still do. She brought out the best in me. Ari was my inspiration. My creative muse, the most beautiful girl I'd ever met, and my partner-in-crime. The Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell. Not to mention Ari's actually funny as shit. Her help took my best work from being just okay to fucking brilliant. And I like to think I was a major factor in her evolution as a songwriter.
But deep down, I know she had no choice. I can't blame or fault her for what happened. I do know Ari's strong as fuck though. She'll get through this and keep making dopeass music. Her songwriting will only get better... which is terrifying since she's so fucking young, man. How the Hell do you write perfect pop music at twenty-five? Maybe it's too soon and maybe I'm just overdosing on love, but her trajectory is no different than John Lennon's, man. Her music is only getting more and more mature. And she still has the voice of Aretha. I can't think of any other teen idol who's made such a seamless transition to being a full-fledged superstar quite like her. She's an icon. And yeah. I was once her fiance. Now, I'm just a footnote to her brilliant career.
However, there was more to our break up than anyone else knows. There was more to it than just a collision of our creativity. Or our volatile emotions. Ariana found out about what was really in my home office. She found out about my past. And what I'd kept hidden in my basement all these years.
With our engagement, the pressure to tell her the truth finally broke me down. She knew I'd had problems in the past. She knew I didn't handle those other break ups too well... so finally, I just had to tell her the truth. I felt compelled.
And so I did, I told her everything. I told her how those last couple of break ups had emotionally drained me. And how empty I felt afterward. I told her how I'd lost the most important thing to me during those long months I spent alone and heartbroken: my creativity. I couldn't write shit. I was losing spots on SNL.
The loneliness ate me alive on the inside. Yeah, I smoked. I drank. But no one really wanted to chill with me. I felt isolated... and my anger only increased.
Through the tears, I told Ariana how I'd pick up strangers at bars and clubs. Men, women, it didn't matter. I'd bring them back to my office and kill them. I'd torture them. What creativity I'd lost in my writing, I'd rekindle here in my makeshift "torture chamber."
I had so many weapons. My mood helped me dictate what kind of slaughter I wanted to create. There were the nights I used tools (a hammer, a saw), there were nights I used those always reliable knives. And sometimes... well, fuck it, sometimes I got real creative and used whatever I laid my hungry eyes on (broken CDs, stapler... yeah, this was more messy but more fun).
No one could hear my victims scream. I lived out in the country after all. My home office was a fortress for my vicious focus. Soundproof walls, no windows. The long table just sturdy enough to hold up all the fit and skinny models (both male and female) I butchered.
I made sure my victims didn't recognize me either... I mean shit, I hardly had any fans as is, so why kill them? These were just airheads and meatheads. Dimbulb pretty people. The same ones who'd always criticized me for not being good enough for Ari. But fuck them, they were good enough to have me hack them to fucking pieces.
I'd kill them in my office and then bury them down in the basement. The set-up was perfect. No one ever knew. And no one suspected a thing. After all, how could they? Me, the awkward, goofy-looking comedian being a methodical and clever serial killer? They said I wasn't even good enough to be Ariana's fiancee much less be Patrick fucking Bateman!
Of course, in due time, I'd recover from these killing sprees. Like I always did. I'd stop the murders and get back in the groove within the confines of my home office. I'd get back to writing. Back to my prolific ways... of course, my creativity would only accelerate once I dated a new girl. Especially with Ari.
But at first, she didn't even believe my dark secrets. I had to dig up the bodies and show her what was left. The bones covered with tattered flesh. The decaying severed heads. The collection of items I'd kept in my office.
After all, I liked "trophies." I liked keeping track of my gruesome progress while also preserving the exciting memories. There was jewelry, wallets, keychains. I kept all of them in a large Ziploc storage bag... the bag weighed down by both the items and the gallons of my victims' blood. Keeping that bag made me feel like a proud mother with a scrapbook of her child's accomplishments. Just like my mom had done for me. Only my bag was a shrine to me being the badass. I wasn't just the awkward, unattractive boyfriend anymore. I was the fucking killer! And the bag proved it!
When I showed it to Ari in my office, she lost it right then and there. I tried pleading with her that she was safe. I never killed my exes and would never hurt the love of my life. Her confidence crumbled and she looked scared. Looking into my victims' dying eyes never made me feel as ravaged as looking into Ariana's terrified eyes at that moment.
Desperate, I tried to tell her I wouldn't kill again. Regardless of all the evil I'd done, I could control it! Just as long as she stayed with me. As long as she could compromise with me like I'd done with her so many times in the past. If she was curious or had a bloodlust (how amazing that would be!), I'd even bring her along on these trips. And then in my office, we'd kill together! We'd share the thrills and excitement. A sexy killer couple ripe for tabloid headlines and round-the-clock E! coverage.
But Ari couldn't handle it. She left me in tears. And I was left holding my goody bag in tears. I didn't chase after her. She knew I loved her. But ultimately, I can't blame Ariana for later ending our engagement and blocking my number and social media. A week later, she sent me my ring back. My worst fear had arrived. Ariana had left me. I'd scared away the woman I loved. And I had no one to blame but myself.
I wasn't mad at her. Not ever. My murders would be hard for anyone to accept. Much less a superstar with as pure a heart as Ari's. If she had no "dark side" or even a morbid curiosity, it'd only make sense she'd call off the wedding.
But I was still upset. I felt terrible about ruining our love. And the internet was fucking relentless. So were the talking heads on T.V. But Goddamn, the trolls and Ariana warriors were something else... they wanted to blame me. Keep on with the same he's not good enough for her, he's ugly, and he's not even funny. As much as I try to play it off, the comments hurt. Like constant stabs from a self-righteous crowd. From Ari's vigilantes. Jesus, it felt like I was in high school again. Alienated and bullied by all those who felt better than me.
Except now the insults hurt even worse considering these assholes had no idea how much I loved Ariana. And now they'll likely never know.
Sometimes, I wonder why Ari couldn't just try to understand me? She just wouldn't listen when I said I never killed when I was in a relationship. When I was happy. Much less when I was about to marry my dreamgirl! I can control these sinister urges. With Ariana, I was happy. I adored her. And together, we brought out the best in our creativity. We did the best work of our careers while in this relationship.
And now here I am back in the gutter. Back in my void of a writer's block. My creativity stifled. My drive more suppressed than the lovely man and woman now tied to my office table.
Here it is three A.M. I'm a few beers in on this lonely Friday night. In my office, my laptop screen is blank. My notebooks blank. I haven't written shit. And I won't for a few months at least.
Sweetener plays on my laptop. The ultra-catchy title track swirls all around me, overpowering the cries of the bound-and-gagged couple.
Wearing a plastic raincoat, I lean back in my chair. I close my eyes and enjoy the music. Relish Ariana's soulful voice. Like a drumstick, I tap the axe handle in my gloved hands.
Enjoying the memories the song provides, I pulled out an old scrapbook from the office shelf. The scrapbook I'd always kept on top of my goody bag.
Looking through the book, I stare at those pictures of me and Ariana with pride. Yeah, I know they're all clipped from newspapers and magazines... but she's still in them. And man, we look sexy together. She looks happy.
As I go further through the book, the photos get older. Like snapshots from my past. You see, this wasn't the first time I was engaged. There was that sweet romance I had back around 2016. Back when I was trying to be a rapper... I told you I've got a lot of hobbies, man. But like with Ariana, I got overshadowed by my first fiancee. She was fierce and strong... a lot like Ariana actually. I loved Nicki Minaj too. And when she found out my secret, well... she had the same reaction Ariana did. She left me. And after all that bliss, I went through months of torture. My only reprieve from the torture was murder. And trust me, I did a lot of that. All for Nicki, of course.
Jesus, me and Nicki looked so good in those pictures too. I was a lot tanner then. But I had serious talent as a rapper. My name Meek Mill was clever. I even had fans. But still, like when I was with Ariana, people always looked to shit on me, man. These talentless, dickless fucks were always criticizing me... Meek Mill ain’t shit Meek is lame. Goddamn, me and Nicki were happy. Nicki loved me. And I loved her.
The clipped photos were starting to yellow with age... but at least I had them preserved forever in this scrapbook. I had Nicki in my memories. The times we were happy. Not to mention, my goody bag had all the "collectibles" I'd taken from the victims she was partially responsible for.
Then I reached another relationship in my Rolodex of memories. This was around early 2016. Before Nicki and back when I was trying to be a DJ/techno genius under the guise Calvin Harris. Pretty lame phase I know. But one good thing did come out of it: I got to date Taylor Swift. Okay, maybe it wasn't as serious as what me and Nicki or me and Ariana had, but Taylor was cool. She had a quirky sense of humor like them.
However, I always got the vibe I loved her more than she loved me. And again, she was much more famous than me! Plus, way younger... so yeah. Even when I had written songs for Rihanna and Ellie Goulding, I was still fodder for Taylor's fan base and internet warriors.
And once she found out my secret. Well, you know how that goes. It set me off even worse when she ditched me in a fucking text message.
Again, all that happiness gave way to an inevitable fall. Those inevitable few months where I kill as many attractive people as possible. People who were so attractive like Taylor.
Man, even with the scrapbook's photos all crumpled and torn, I could still gaze into Taylor's pretty face all night. I could look at all my exes' pretty faces, honestly.
While there a few more relationships buried in the back of the book, I couldn't take any more. The memories were becoming painful. Everything'd gone from bittersweet to brutal so quickly. Like an endless loop of regrets.
Angry, I slammed the scrapbook shut. All around me, Ariana's voice haunted me. Just like my memories with her will forever torment me.
I understand why these women break up with me. I get it. I know I'm strange. Different. Maybe even creepy. And they have their own lives and careers to worry about. Especially when all of them are so damn talented. So much more talented than me. And according to the internet, so much more attractive than me.
In my solemn "fortress," I put the scrapbook back on the shelf. Right on top of my gruesome bag.
It’s weird how this cycle goes. I remember in 2007 after Britney Spears dumped me (Yeah, I was actually married at one point). At the time, I was fairly famous for doing boy band shit. But when I went to a hospital for depression and what people claimed was some sort of delusion disorder or psychosis (LOL), no one believed I was Kevin Federline. Crazy, man. Almost as crazy as the people who tell me I’m not Pete Davidson. But looking back, that break up with Britney was what got me on this... process. The rebound murders.
So now I'm back home in Stanwyck, Georgia. But at least tonight, I'm not alone.
I look over at the office table. The young man and woman keep straining under those tight ropes. But they're not going anywhere. They never do until it's time to drag the leftovers down into the basement.
I already took the guy's baseball cap and girl's bottle opener keychain for safekeeping. All that's left now is the fun part. The only question is who should I stab first and where should I sink this axe's brutal blade?
Honestly, I'm nervous. I haven't killed anyone in over five months. Not since me and Ariana started dating. Murder is like sex, you know. So much of it can be awkward and weird. But unfortunately for this cute couple, I'm a Hell of a lot better at killing than fucking. And with Ariana gone, my motivation is all murder at this point.
The young man and woman's helpless eyes look on at me. As if they sense my hesitancy. My awkwardness. They're like children with feet stuck in the railroad tracks. They're helpless. Oh so helpless.
For a moment there, I considered dropping the axe. Maybe if I let them go, they won't tell anyone. Maybe they really don't recognize me. After all, now that Ari dumped me, what was I famous for? SNL was already losing interest in my work. Not that I'd written jack shit since Ariana left anyway.
But then in the same way Ariana had always inspired me, I heard her voice call to me from the laptop. Her song for me. "pete davidson." However she felt now, Ariana loved me back then. I know she did. And that song always takes me back to that euphoria we both felt. To that place when we were both happy.
Tears sliding down my face, I smiled at my latest victims.
Ariana's soft voice serenaded me. She gave me the strength to carry on.
The man and woman looked confused. Confused and terrified. They stopped whimpering. As if my tears signified I had a change of heart in my murderous intentions.
But I didn't. With "pete davidson" serving as my heartfelt soundtrack, I stood up and pulled the axe back.
Instantly, the couple quivered beneath the ropes. Their horrified cries muffled by the duct tape. Their own tears flowed from their wide-open eyes. Ariana Grande the last voice they'd ever hear. My name the last song they'd ever hear.
And what a song it was. Ariana's voice reassured me like the comforting words of an empathetic mother. Even without Ari's love, this song would forever be my rallying cry.
Chuckling with joy, I hoisted the axe up high over the man's face. Thanks for the memories, Ari. This is for you.
submitted by rhonnie14 to rhonnie14 [link] [comments]


2019.01.09 01:26 tombstoneshadows28 A fairly-exhaustive (although indubitably-incomplete) more-or-less-chronological history of G/M/GP/PG/PG-13-rated nudity to date.

(note: many instances are all-but subliminal. However, for those so determined to see 'em, they ARE there.)
A fairly-exhaustive (although indubitably-incomplete) more-or-less-chronological history of G-M-GP-PG-+PG-13-rated nudity to date: (note: many instances are all-but subliminal. However, for those so determined to see 'em, they ARE there.)
  1. The Mad Doctor of Blood Island (1968) Alicia Alonzo + Angelique Pettyjohn
  2. Planet Of The Apes (1968) Charlton Heston
  3. Romeo And Juliet (1968) Leonard Whiting + Olivia Hussey
  4. Barbarella: Queen of the Galaxy (1968) Jane Fonda
  5. The Night They Raided Minsky's (1968) Britt Ekland's body double
  6. Ray Bradbury's 'The Illustrated Man' (1969) Robert Drivas + Rod Steiger
  7. The Big Cube (1969) Pamela Rodgers and an unidentifiable female arse flasher
  8. The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie (1969) Pamela Franklin
  9. Diamonds Are Forever (1971) Jill St. John + Denise Perrier
  10. Billy Jack (1971) Delores Taylor + Cisse Cameron
  11. Walkabout (1971) Jenny Agutter + David Gulpilil (re-rated as "R" in the 1980s; originally released as "GP" [and, a little later, "PG"]).
  12. The Andromeda Strain (1971) unnamed extra
  13. Papillion (1973) Ratna Assan
  14. The Day of the Jackal (1973) Olga Georges-Picot + Delphine Seyrig
  15. Barry Lyndon (1975) Marisa Berenson
  16. Crazy Mama (1975) Linda Purl
  17. The Man Who Would Be King (1975) Sean Connery + a female extra bare their arses
  18. The Giant Spider Invasion (1975) Diane Lee Hart
  19. The Little Girl Who Lives Down The Lane (1976) (Jodie Foster's sister standing in for her)
  20. Logan's Run (1976) Jenny Agutter + a few unnamed extras
  21. The Outlaw Josie Wales (1976) Sondra Locke
  22. The Manitou (1978) Susan Strasberg
  23. Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978) Brooke Adams
  24. High-Ballin’ (1978) Helen Shaver
  25. Slithis (1978) Unlisted woman
  26. Hair (1979) Beverly D'Angelo
  27. Kramer Vs. Kramer (1979) JoBeth Williams
  28. Just You And Me, Kid (1979) Brooke Shields' body double
  29. Airplane! (1980) Kitten Natividad
  30. Clash Of The Titans (1981) Judy Bowker's body double + Vida Taylor
  31. Looker (1981) Susan Dey (the ultra-rare "down there" in a PG film) + Terri Welles
  32. The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia (1981) Dennis Quaid (the uber-rare full frontal male nudity in a pg-rated film)
  33. Dragonslayer (1981) Caitlin Clarke's body double
  34. Chariots of Fire (1981) male arse nudity from extras
  35. Gallipoli (1981) Mel Gibson + Mark Lee
  36. The Beastmaster (1982) Tanya Roberts
  37. Swamp Thing (1982) Adrienne Barbeau
  38. Best Friends (1982) Goldie Hawn
  39. Curse of the Pink Panther (1983) Joanna Lumley
  40. Android (1983) Kendra Kirchner + Brie Howard
  41. Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi (1983) Femi Taylor
  42. Octopussy (1983) Maud Adam's arse double
  43. Splash (1984) Daryl Hannah
  44. Sheena (1984) Tanya Roberts
  45. Ordeal By Innocence (1984) Cassie Stuart (British film, released later in the decade in U.S.)
  46. Irreconcilable Differences (1984) Sharon Stone
  47. Sixteen Candles (1984) Haviland Morris
  48. Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes (1984) male and female nudity from various extras
  49. Gene Wilder's 'The Woman In Red' (1984) Kelly LeBrock (the first of the very few instances of female pubic hair to be found in a pg-13 film.)
  50. Racing With The Moon (1984) Elizabeth McGovern
  51. National Lampoon's 'European Vacation' (1985) Claudia Neidig + Beverly D'Angelo + a bevy of nameless topless French cabaret performers.
  52. American Flyers (1985) Kevin Costner and David Marshall Grant
  53. Baby: Secret of the Lost Legend (1985) various unnamed extras posing as natives
  54. Just One of the Guys (1985) Joyce Hyser
  55. Every Time We Say Goodbye (1986) Cristina Marsillach
  56. Back To School (1986) Leslie Huntly
  57. Foreign Body (1986) Amanda Donohoe + Sinitta Renet
  58. Monster in the Closet (1986) Stella Stevens
  59. Ishtar (1987) Isabelle Adjani
  60. The Living Daylights (1987) Virginia Hey
  61. Apprentice To Murder (1987 released in 1988) Mia Sara
  62. Critters 2: The Main Course (1988) Roxanne Kernohan
  63. A Summer Story (1988) Imogen Stubbs
  64. The Abyss (1989) Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio
  65. The Adventures Of Baron Munchausen (1989) Uma Thurman
  66. Dances With Wolves (1990) Kevin Costner
  67. Rocky V (1990) Sylvester Stallone
  68. Dances With Wolves (1990) Kevin Costner
  69. Quigley Down Under (1990) unnamed male/female background actors/extras
  70. Bird On A Wire (1990) Mel Gibson
  71. Robin Hood, Prince Of Thieves (1991) Kevin Costner
  72. The Man in the Moon (1991) bare arses from male and female characters
  73. Doc Hollywood (1991) Julie Warner
  74. Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (1991) Kevin Costner
  75. Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot (1992) Sylvester Stallone
  76. 1492: Conquest of Paradise (1992) fleeting nudity from various female/male extras
  77. Forever Young (1992) Mel Gibson
  78. Beautiful Dreamers (1992) Wendel Meldrum (the uber-rare "minge" to be found in any-let-alone-a-modern pg-13 film.)
  79. Death Becomes Her (1992) Isabella Rossellini's body double (aka Catherine Bell) + Carrie Jean Yazel
  80. Chaplin (1992) Diane Lane, Moira Kelly + Milla Jovovich
  81. Nell (1994) Jodie Foster
  82. Forrest Gump (1994) Robin Wright
  83. Don Juan DeMarco (1994) Lisa Comshaw, Géraldine Pailhas, Talisa Soto + Rachel Ticotin's body double
  84. Dumb and Dumber (1994) Lauren Holly
  85. Hackers (1995) Angelina Jolie
  86. Waterworld (1995) Jeanne Tripplehorn's arse double
  87. Shine (1996) Geoffrey Rush
  88. Moll Flanders (1996) Robin Wright
  89. The Fifth Element (1997) Milla Jovovich
  90. Titanic (1997) Kate Winslet
  91. Waking Ned Devine (1999) David Kelley
  92. The Cider House Rules (1999) Charlize Theron
  93. The Muse (1999) Sharon Stone
  94. Something's Gotta Give (2003) Diane Keaton
  95. The Notebook (2004) Rachel McAdams
  96. Across The Universe (2007) Evan Rachel Wood
  97. Fool's Gold (2008) Clementine Heath + Ashley Cheadle
  98. The House Bunny (2008) Anna Faris
submitted by tombstoneshadows28 to movies [link] [comments]


2018.12.10 11:08 Onomatopoeipoei TIL Kurt Russell has been dating Goldie Hawn since 1986. Hawn's children include actors Oliver and Kate Hudson, who consider Russell more of a father than their actual biological father.

TIL Kurt Russell has been dating Goldie Hawn since 1986. Hawn's children include actors Oliver and Kate Hudson, who consider Russell more of a father than their actual biological father. submitted by Onomatopoeipoei to todayilearned [link] [comments]


2018.11.15 17:00 rhonnie14 The Real Reason Ariana Left Me

I don't handle break ups very well. I never have. So yeah, just in case you weren't aware, this last one has me pretty fucked-up.
My spirits are crushed. My frame of mind utterly skullfucked. My drive decimated. I mean yeah, I get like this after every break up. I always do. They're like premature burials for my soul. And the suffering always lingers for far longer than the joy I had while I was dating someone. But this one with Ari... well, it has to be the worst.
At this point, I can't even write. I haven't written shit in weeks. Almost all my hobbies die with my happiness it seems like. I just sit in my home office all night, staring at an unforgiving laptop screen. The booze and smoke does nothing. No books or movies fuel my creative drive. And of course, there's no Ariana around to encourage me.
It's now been almost a month since she dumped me. And the pain still feels fresh. Like I'm forever stuck in that sickening single moment when she told me she no longer loved me. A harsh time loop I can't escape.
I should be used to the bitter break ups by now. Love is like a roller coaster, you know. There's all those anxious moments in the build-up. The fun excitement. And then once you reach that top, the relationship ride is fucking transcendent. You've got optimism. You feel loved. You feel great... and you've got the entire future to feel this way! Things are wonderful. But then the inevitable happens. Like my goofy roller coaster analogy, those moments at the top are fleeting and all too brief before those relationships come hurtling back down. And just like that, the love is over. The joy is gone. You're back off the ride and desperate for that next thrill. Only as you get older, those thrills get so much harder to find...
I thought Ari was it. I thought she got me. I thought she loved me. I mean she loved my writing, my jokes, my creativity. She even thought I was super hot! And I'll be damned, if she didn't make me look more attractive... not because she would be standing next to me like a gorgeous accessory. But she actually helped give me fucking style pointers, man! A new haircut, new clothes... she motivated me to lose weight and get in shape. Yeah, it's superficial bullshit, I get that. But I felt better. I'd never felt as attractive or confident than with her. Being unconventionally handsome and eccentric will make you self-conscious, guys. It will give you nervous tics/habits that make you look spastic as fuck. But Ari took me out of that! She was like a pretty therapist. My pretty therapist.
And this therapist was also my creative partner. She pushed me in my writing. I wasn't just imagining this shit either... people actually laughed at my jokes more than they ever had before. SNL showed off more of my work. I became more prolific. And I was so damn consistent! My creative fire flourished like never before. Maybe I'd become more famous because of Ariana, but I rose to the challenge with excellent fucking material. Shit I was proud of too! I'm talking I'd spend hours in my office each night just cranking out brilliance. A mad scientist of comedy! I couldn't miss. At least, I felt that way. And I had no one except Ari to thank for that.
And not to brag but I feel like I had a similar effect on her music. She admired my prolific creativity. My vision. How hard I worked. And I know it rubbed off on her during those Sweetener sessions. On that album, she had more creative control than ever. She told me she felt like a true artist on this one. Better production value, more innovation, and she'd even written the vast majority of the songs. She was proud of her masterpiece and deservedly so. And Goddamn, she could sing! But then again, you lovely people already knew that.
Until I first heard Sweetener, I had no idea there was even a track named after me. A sweet, short track (About as long as our relationship, right! Yeah, I've only heard that bullshit a hundred times! ZOMG!1! still so Goddamn funny!1!11). But I could hear the emotion in her voice. The Ari I knew. Her tender emotions. She meant those lyrics. Every fucking word. We'll call it ninety seconds of bliss... and yeah, maybe our relationship was just five months of bliss. But it was still the best five months of my life. And naming a song for me was akin to John Belushi literally crawling out of the grave to tell me I was one of the funniest motherfuckers to ever come out of the SNL family. That song meant even more considering it wasn't high praise coming from my deceased idol but instead from my one true love.
And through it all, I dealt with all the bullshit. The low blows. Yeah, I mean motherfuckers like you assholes reading this. You're probably now talking about what a loser I am to be using a burner on Reddit while complaining about my beautiful-and-immensely-more-talented ex-girlfriend. Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second, thank you for reading this.
But yeah, the constant criticism got old, man. I get it. Ariana's gorgeous. I'm not. I'm sorry that the world and Twitter never considered me worthy of Ari. I'm sorry I could never live up to whatever Magic-Mike/Michael-B.-Jordan-level expectations you motherfuckers had. I'm just a geeky, neurotic comedy writer, alright. Yeah, I hit the jackpot with that girl. So fucking be it. He isn't worthy, he's creepy looking, what's she doing with his uglyass, he ain't even famous. I get it. You don't have to keep fucking reminding me. I'm in mourning now, Goddammit! And whether you like it or not, I loved Ariana. And she loved me.
Maybe I could've been better... and when Mac died, it hurt both of us. I didn't care about their history. Mac was my friend, he was a nice dude. I still bawled like a bitch when I heard what happened. Shit, I cried as much as Ariana did.
Ultimately, I really wish things had worked out between us, man. I really do... I still do. She brought out the best in me. Ari was my inspiration. My creative muse, the most beautiful girl I'd ever met, and my partner-in-crime. The Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell. Not to mention Ari's actually funny as shit. Her help took my best work from being just okay to fucking brilliant. And I like to think I was a major factor in her evolution as a songwriter.
But deep down, I know she had no choice. I can't blame or fault her for what happened. I do know Ari's strong as fuck though. She'll get through this and keep making dopeass music. Her songwriting will only get better... which is terrifying since she's so fucking young, man. How the Hell do you write perfect pop music at twenty-five? Maybe it's too soon and maybe I'm just overdosing on love, but her trajectory is no different than John Lennon's, man. Her music is only getting more and more mature. And she still has the voice of Aretha. I can't think of any other teen idol who's made such a seamless transition to being a full-fledged superstar quite like her. She's an icon. And yeah. I was once her fiance. Now, I'm just a footnote to her brilliant career.
However, there was more to our break up than anyone else knows. There was more to it than just a collision of our creativity. Or our volatile emotions. Ariana found out about what was really in my home office. She found out about my past. And what I'd kept hidden in my basement all these years.
With our engagement, the pressure to tell her the truth finally broke me down. She knew I'd had problems in the past. She knew I didn't handle those other break ups too well... so finally, I just had to tell her the truth. I felt compelled.
And so I did, I told her everything. I told her how those last couple of break ups had emotionally drained me. And how empty I felt afterward. I told her how I'd lost the most important thing to me during those long months I spent alone and heartbroken: my creativity. I couldn't write shit. I was losing spots on SNL.
The loneliness ate me alive on the inside. Yeah, I smoked. I drank. But no one really wanted to chill with me. I felt isolated... and my anger only increased.
Through the tears, I told Ariana how I'd pick up strangers at bars and clubs. Men, women, it didn't matter. I'd bring them back to my office and kill them. I'd torture them. What creativity I'd lost in my writing, I'd rekindle here in my makeshift "torture chamber."
I had so many weapons. My mood helped me dictate what kind of slaughter I wanted to create. There were the nights I used tools (a hammer, a saw), there were nights I used those always reliable knives. And sometimes... well, fuck it, sometimes I got real creative and used whatever I laid my hungry eyes on (broken CDs, stapler... yeah, this was more messy but more fun).
No one could hear my victims scream. I lived out in the country after all. My home office was a fortress for my vicious focus. Soundproof walls, no windows. The long table just sturdy enough to hold up all the fit and skinny models (both male and female) I butchered.
I made sure my victims didn't recognize me either... I mean shit, I hardly had any fans as is, so why kill them? These were just airheads and meatheads. Dimbulb pretty people. The same ones who'd always criticized me for not being good enough for Ari. But fuck them, they were good enough to have me hack them to fucking pieces.
I'd kill them in my office and then bury them down in the basement. The set-up was perfect. No one ever knew. And no one suspected a thing. After all, how could they? Me, the awkward, goofy-looking comedian being a methodical and clever serial killer? They said I wasn't even good enough to be Ariana's fiancee much less be Patrick fucking Bateman!
Of course, in due time, I'd recover from these killing sprees. Like I always did. I'd stop the murders and get back in the groove within the confines of my home office. I'd get back to writing. Back to my prolific ways... of course, my creativity would only accelerate once I dated a new girl. Especially with Ari.
But at first, she didn't even believe my dark secrets. I had to dig up the bodies and show her what was left. The bones covered with tattered flesh. The decaying severed heads. The collection of items I'd kept in my office.
After all, I liked "trophies." I liked keeping track of my gruesome progress while also preserving the exciting memories. There was jewelry, wallets, keychains. I kept all of them in a large Ziploc storage bag... the bag weighed down by both the items and the gallons of my victims' blood. Keeping that bag made me feel like a proud mother with a scrapbook of her child's accomplishments. Just like my mom had done for me. Only my bag was a shrine to me being the badass. I wasn't just the awkward, unattractive boyfriend anymore. I was the fucking killer! And the bag proved it!
When I showed it to Ari in my office, she lost it right then and there. I tried pleading with her that she was safe. I never killed my exes and would never hurt the love of my life. Her confidence crumbled and she looked scared. Looking into my victims' dying eyes never made me feel as ravaged as looking into Ariana's terrified eyes at that moment.
Desperate, I tried to tell her I wouldn't kill again. Regardless of all the evil I'd done, I could control it! Just as long as she stayed with me. As long as she could compromise with me like I'd done with her so many times in the past. If she was curious or had a bloodlust (how amazing that would be!), I'd even bring her along on these trips. And then in my office, we'd kill together! We'd share the thrills and excitement. A sexy killer couple ripe for tabloid headlines and round-the-clock E! coverage.
But Ari couldn't handle it. She left me in tears. And I was left holding my goody bag in tears. I didn't chase after her. She knew I loved her. But ultimately, I can't blame Ariana for later ending our engagement and blocking my number and social media. A week later, she sent me my ring back. My worst fear had arrived. Ariana had left me. I'd scared away the woman I loved. And I had no one to blame but myself.
I wasn't mad at her. Not ever. My murders would be hard for anyone to accept. Much less a superstar with as pure a heart as Ari's. If she had no "dark side" or even a morbid curiosity, it'd only make sense she'd call off the wedding.
But I was still upset. I felt terrible about ruining our love. And the internet was fucking relentless. So were the talking heads on T.V. But Goddamn, the trolls and Ariana warriors were something else... they wanted to blame me. Keep on with the same he's not good enough for her, he's ugly, and he's not even funny. As much as I try to play it off, the comments hurt. Like constant stabs from a self-righteous crowd. From Ari's vigilantes. Jesus, it felt like I was in high school again. Alienated and bullied by all those who felt better than me.
Except now the insults hurt even worse considering these assholes had no idea how much I loved Ariana. And now they'll likely never know.
Sometimes, I wonder why Ari couldn't just try to understand me? She just wouldn't listen when I said I never killed when I was in a relationship. When I was happy. Much less when I was about to marry my dreamgirl! I can control these sinister urges. With Ariana, I was happy. I adored her. And together, we brought out the best in our creativity. We did the best work of our careers while in this relationship.
And now here I am back in the gutter. Back in my void of a writer's block. My creativity stifled. My drive more suppressed than the lovely man and woman now tied to my office table.
Here it is three A.M. I'm a few beers in on this lonely Friday night. In my office, my laptop screen is blank. My notebooks blank. I haven't written shit. And I won't for a few months at least.
Sweetener plays on my laptop. The ultra-catchy title track swirls all around me, overpowering the cries of the bound-and-gagged couple.
Wearing a plastic raincoat, I lean back in my chair. I close my eyes and enjoy the music. Relish Ariana's soulful voice. Like a drumstick, I tap the axe handle in my gloved hands.
Enjoying the memories the song provides, I pulled out an old scrapbook from the office shelf. The scrapbook I'd always kept on top of my goody bag.
Looking through the book, I stare at those pictures of me and Ariana with pride. Yeah, I know they're all clipped from newspapers and magazines... but she's still in them. And man, we look sexy together. She looks happy.
As I go further through the book, the photos get older. Like snapshots from my past. You see, this wasn't the first time I was engaged. There was that sweet romance I had back around 2016. Back when I was trying to be a rapper... I told you I've got a lot of hobbies, man. But like with Ariana, I got overshadowed by my first fiancee. She was fierce and strong... a lot like Ariana actually. I loved Nicki Minaj too. And when she found out my secret, well... she had the same reaction Ariana did. She left me. And after all that bliss, I went through months of torture. My only reprieve from the torture was murder. And trust me, I did a lot of that. All for Nicki, of course.
Jesus, me and Nicki looked so good in those pictures too. I was a lot tanner then. But I had serious talent as a rapper. My name Meek Mill was clever. I even had fans. But still, like when I was with Ariana, people always looked to shit on me, man. These talentless, dickless fucks were always criticizing me... Meek Mill ain’t shit Meek is lame. Goddamn, me and Nicki were happy. Nicki loved me. And I loved her.
The clipped photos were starting to yellow with age... but at least I had them preserved forever in this scrapbook. I had Nicki in my memories. The times we were happy. Not to mention, my goody bag had all the "collectibles" I'd taken from the victims she was partially responsible for.
Then I reached another relationship in my Rolodex of memories. This was around early 2016. Before Nicki and back when I was trying to be a DJ/techno genius under the guise Calvin Harris. Pretty lame phase I know. But one good thing did come out of it: I got to date Taylor Swift. Okay, maybe it wasn't as serious as what me and Nicki or me and Ariana had, but Taylor was cool. She had a quirky sense of humor like them.
However, I always got the vibe I loved her more than she loved me. And again, she was much more famous than me! Plus, way younger... so yeah. Even when I had written songs for Rihanna and Ellie Goulding, I was still fodder for Taylor's fan base and internet warriors.
And once she found out my secret. Well, you know how that goes. It set me off even worse when she ditched me in a fucking text message.
Again, all that happiness gave way to an inevitable fall. Those inevitable few months where I kill as many attractive people as possible. People who were so attractive like Taylor.
Man, even with the scrapbook's photos all crumpled and torn, I could still gaze into Taylor's pretty face all night. I could look at all my exes' pretty faces, honestly.
While there a few more relationships buried in the back of the book, I couldn't take any more. The memories were becoming painful. Everything'd gone from bittersweet to brutal so quickly. Like an endless loop of regrets.
Angry, I slammed the scrapbook shut. All around me, Ariana's voice haunted me. Just like my memories with her will forever torment me.
I understand why these women break up with me. I get it. I know I'm strange. Different. Maybe even creepy. And they have their own lives and careers to worry about. Especially when all of them are so damn talented. So much more talented than me. And according to the internet, so much more attractive than me.
In my solemn "fortress," I put the scrapbook back on the shelf. Right on top of my gruesome bag.
It’s weird how this cycle goes. I remember in 2007 after Britney Spears dumped me (Yeah, I was actually married at one point). At the time, I was fairly famous for doing boy band shit. But when I went to a hospital for depression and what people claimed was some sort of delusion disorder or psychosis (LOL), no one believed I was Kevin Federline. Crazy, man. Almost as crazy as the people who tell me I’m not Pete Davidson. But looking back, that break up with Britney was what got me on this... process. The rebound murders.
So now I'm back home in Stanwyck, Georgia. But at least tonight, I'm not alone.
I look over at the office table. The young man and woman keep straining under those tight ropes. But they're not going anywhere. They never do until it's time to drag the leftovers down into the basement.
I already took the guy's baseball cap and girl's bottle opener keychain for safekeeping. All that's left now is the fun part. The only question is who should I stab first and where should I sink this axe's brutal blade?
Honestly, I'm nervous. I haven't killed anyone in over five months. Not since me and Ariana started dating. Murder is like sex, you know. So much of it can be awkward and weird. But unfortunately for this cute couple, I'm a Hell of a lot better at killing than fucking. And with Ariana gone, my motivation is all murder at this point.
The young man and woman's helpless eyes look on at me. As if they sense my hesitancy. My awkwardness. They're like children with feet stuck in the railroad tracks. They're helpless. Oh so helpless.
For a moment there, I considered dropping the axe. Maybe if I let them go, they won't tell anyone. Maybe they really don't recognize me. After all, now that Ari dumped me, what was I famous for? SNL was already losing interest in my work. Not that I'd written jack shit since Ariana left anyway.
But then in the same way Ariana had always inspired me, I heard her voice call to me from the laptop. Her song for me. "pete davidson." However she felt now, Ariana loved me back then. I know she did. And that song always takes me back to that euphoria we both felt. To that place when we were both happy.
Tears sliding down my face, I smiled at my latest victims.
Ariana's soft voice serenaded me. She gave me the strength to carry on.
The man and woman looked confused. Confused and terrified. They stopped whimpering. As if my tears signified I had a change of heart in my murderous intentions.
But I didn't. With "pete davidson" serving as my heartfelt soundtrack, I stood up and pulled the axe back.
Instantly, the couple quivered beneath the ropes. Their horrified cries muffled by the duct tape. Their own tears flowed from their wide-open eyes. Ariana Grande the last voice they'd ever hear. My name the last song they'd ever hear.
And what a song it was. Ariana's voice reassured me like the comforting words of an empathetic mother. Even without Ari's love, this song would forever be my rallying cry.
Chuckling with joy, I hoisted the axe up high over the man's face. Thanks for the memories, Ari. This is for you.
submitted by rhonnie14 to SignalHorrorFiction [link] [comments]


2018.11.13 17:58 rhonnie14 The Real Reason Ariana Left Me (Removed - horrible not horror bullshit rule)

I don't handle break ups very well. I never have. So yeah, just in case you weren't aware, this last one has me pretty fucked-up.
My spirits are crushed. My frame of mind utterly skullfucked. My drive decimated. I mean yeah, I get like this after every break up. I always do. They're like premature burials for my soul. And the suffering always lingers for far longer than the joy I had while I was dating someone. But this one with Ari... well, it has to be the worst.
At this point, I can't even write. I haven't written shit in weeks. Almost all my hobbies die with my happiness it seems like. I just sit in my home office all night, staring at an unforgiving laptop screen. The booze and smoke does nothing. No books or movies fuel my creative drive. And of course, there's no Ariana around to encourage me.
It's now been almost a month since she dumped me. And the pain still feels fresh. Like I'm forever stuck in that sickening single moment when she told me she no longer loved me. A harsh time loop I can't escape.
I should be used to the bitter break ups by now. Love is like a roller coaster, you know. There's all those anxious moments in the build-up. The fun excitement. And then once you reach that top, the relationship ride is fucking transcendent. You've got optimism. You feel loved. You feel great... and you've got the entire future to feel this way! Things are wonderful. But then the inevitable happens. Like my goofy roller coaster analogy, those moments at the top are fleeting and all too brief before those relationships come hurtling back down. And just like that, the love is over. The joy is gone. You're back off the ride and desperate for that next thrill. Only as you get older, those thrills get so much harder to find...
I thought Ari was it. I thought she got me. I thought she loved me. I mean she loved my writing, my jokes, my creativity. She even thought I was super hot! And I'll be damned, if she didn't make me look more attractive... not because she would be standing next to me like a gorgeous accessory. But she actually helped give me fucking style pointers, man! A new haircut, new clothes... she motivated me to lose weight and get in shape. Yeah, it's superficial bullshit, I get that. But I felt better. I'd never felt as attractive or confident than with her. Being unconventionally handsome and eccentric will make you self-conscious, guys. It will give you nervous tics/habits that make you look spastic as fuck. But Ari took me out of that! She was like a pretty therapist. My pretty therapist.
And this therapist was also my creative partner. She pushed me in my writing. I wasn't just imagining this shit either... people actually laughed at my jokes more than they ever had before. SNL showed off more of my work. I became more prolific. And I was so damn consistent! My creative fire flourished like never before. Maybe I'd become more famous because of Ariana, but I rose to the challenge with excellent fucking material. Shit I was proud of too! I'm talking I'd spend hours in my office each night just cranking out brilliance. A mad scientist of comedy! I couldn't miss. At least, I felt that way. And I had no one except Ari to thank for that.
And not to brag but I feel like I had a similar effect on her music. She admired my prolific creativity. My vision. How hard I worked. And I know it rubbed off on her during those Sweetener sessions. On that album, she had more creative control than ever. She told me she felt like a true artist on this one. Better production value, more innovation, and she'd even written the vast majority of the songs. She was proud of her masterpiece and deservedly so. And Goddamn, she could sing! But then again, you lovely people already knew that.
Until I first heard Sweetener, I had no idea there was even a track named after me. A sweet, short track (About as long as our relationship, right! Yeah, I've only heard that bullshit a hundred times! ZOMG!1! still so Goddamn funny!1!11). But I could hear the emotion in her voice. The Ari I knew. Her tender emotions. She meant those lyrics. Every fucking word. We'll call it ninety seconds of bliss... and yeah, maybe our relationship was just five months of bliss. But it was still the best five months of my life. And naming a song for me was akin to John Belushi literally crawling out of the grave to tell me I was one of the funniest motherfuckers to ever come out of the SNL family. That song meant even more considering it wasn't high praise coming from my deceased idol but instead from my one true love.
And through it all, I dealt with all the bullshit. The low blows. Yeah, I mean motherfuckers like you assholes reading this. You're probably now talking about what a loser I am to be using a burner on Reddit while complaining about my beautiful-and-immensely-more-talented ex-girlfriend. Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second, thank you for reading this.
But yeah, the constant criticism got old, man. I get it. Ariana's gorgeous. I'm not. I'm sorry that the world and Twitter never considered me worthy of Ari. I'm sorry I could never live up to whatever Magic-Mike/Michael-B.-Jordan-level expectations you motherfuckers had. I'm just a geeky, neurotic comedy writer, alright. Yeah, I hit the jackpot with that girl. So fucking be it. He isn't worthy, he's creepy looking, what's she doing with his uglyass, he ain't even famous. I get it. You don't have to keep fucking reminding me. I'm in mourning now, Goddammit! And whether you like it or not, I loved Ariana. And she loved me.
Maybe I could've been better... and when Mac died, it hurt both of us. I didn't care about their history. Mac was my friend, he was a nice dude. I still bawled like a bitch when I heard what happened. Shit, I cried as much as Ariana did.
Ultimately, I really wish things had worked out between us, man. I really do... I still do. She brought out the best in me. Ari was my inspiration. My creative muse, the most beautiful girl I'd ever met, and my partner-in-crime. The Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell. Not to mention Ari's actually funny as shit. Her help took my best work from being just okay to fucking brilliant. And I like to think I was a major factor in her evolution as a songwriter.
But deep down, I know she had no choice. I can't blame or fault her for what happened. I do know Ari's strong as fuck though. She'll get through this and keep making dopeass music. Her songwriting will only get better... which is terrifying since she's so fucking young, man. How the Hell do you write perfect pop music at twenty-five? Maybe it's too soon and maybe I'm just overdosing on love, but her trajectory is no different than John Lennon's, man. Her music is only getting more and more mature. And she still has the voice of Aretha. I can't think of any other teen idol who's made such a seamless transition to being a full-fledged superstar quite like her. She's an icon. And yeah. I was once her fiance. Now, I'm just a footnote to her brilliant career.
However, there was more to our break up than anyone else knows. There was more to it than just a collision of our creativity. Or our volatile emotions. Ariana found out about what was really in my home office. She found out about my past. And what I'd kept hidden in my basement all these years.
With our engagement, the pressure to tell her the truth finally broke me down. She knew I'd had problems in the past. She knew I didn't handle those other break ups too well... so finally, I just had to tell her the truth. I felt compelled.
And so I did, I told her everything. I told her how those last couple of break ups had emotionally drained me. And how empty I felt afterward. I told her how I'd lost the most important thing to me during those long months I spent alone and heartbroken: my creativity. I couldn't write shit. I was losing spots on SNL.
The loneliness ate me alive on the inside. Yeah, I smoked. I drank. But no one really wanted to chill with me. I felt isolated... and my anger only increased.
Through the tears, I told Ariana how I'd pick up strangers at bars and clubs. Men, women, it didn't matter. I'd bring them back to my office and kill them. I'd torture them. What creativity I'd lost in my writing, I'd rekindle here in my makeshift "torture chamber."
I had so many weapons. My mood helped me dictate what kind of slaughter I wanted to create. There were the nights I used tools (a hammer, a saw), there were nights I used those always reliable knives. And sometimes... well, fuck it, sometimes I got real creative and used whatever I laid my hungry eyes on (broken CDs, stapler... yeah, this was more messy but more fun).
No one could hear my victims scream. I lived out in the country after all. My home office was a fortress for my vicious focus. Soundproof walls, no windows. The long table just sturdy enough to hold up all the fit and skinny models (both male and female) I butchered.
I made sure my victims didn't recognize me either... I mean shit, I hardly had any fans as is, so why kill them? These were just airheads and meatheads. Dimbulb pretty people. The same ones who'd always criticized me for not being good enough for Ari. But fuck them, they were good enough to have me hack them to fucking pieces.
I'd kill them in my office and then bury them down in the basement. The set-up was perfect. No one ever knew. And no one suspected a thing. After all, how could they? Me, the awkward, goofy-looking comedian being a methodical and clever serial killer? They said I wasn't even good enough to be Ariana's fiancee much less be Patrick fucking Bateman!
Of course, in due time, I'd recover from these killing sprees. Like I always did. I'd stop the murders and get back in the groove within the confines of my home office. I'd get back to writing. Back to my prolific ways... of course, my creativity would only accelerate once I dated a new girl. Especially with Ari.
But at first, she didn't even believe my dark secrets. I had to dig up the bodies and show her what was left. The bones covered with tattered flesh. The decaying severed heads. The collection of items I'd kept in my office.
After all, I liked "trophies." I liked keeping track of my gruesome progress while also preserving the exciting memories. There was jewelry, wallets, keychains. I kept all of them in a large Ziploc storage bag... the bag weighed down by both the items and the gallons of my victims' blood. Keeping that bag made me feel like a proud mother with a scrapbook of her child's accomplishments. Just like my mom had done for me. Only my bag was a shrine to me being the badass. I wasn't just the awkward, unattractive boyfriend anymore. I was the fucking killer! And the bag proved it!
When I showed it to Ari in my office, she lost it right then and there. I tried pleading with her that she was safe. I never killed my exes and would never hurt the love of my life. Her confidence crumbled and she looked scared. Looking into my victims' dying eyes never made me feel as ravaged as looking into Ariana's terrified eyes at that moment.
Desperate, I tried to tell her I wouldn't kill again. Regardless of all the evil I'd done, I could control it! Just as long as she stayed with me. As long as she could compromise with me like I'd done with her so many times in the past. If she was curious or had a bloodlust (how amazing that would be!), I'd even bring her along on these trips. And then in my office, we'd kill together! We'd share the thrills and excitement. A sexy killer couple ripe for tabloid headlines and round-the-clock E! coverage.
But Ari couldn't handle it. She left me in tears. And I was left holding my goody bag in tears. I didn't chase after her. She knew I loved her. But ultimately, I can't blame Ariana for later ending our engagement and blocking my number and social media. A week later, she sent me my ring back. My worst fear had arrived. Ariana had left me. I'd scared away the woman I loved. And I had no one to blame but myself.
I wasn't mad at her. Not ever. My murders would be hard for anyone to accept. Much less a superstar with as pure a heart as Ari's. If she had no "dark side" or even a morbid curiosity, it'd only make sense she'd call off the wedding.
But I was still upset. I felt terrible about ruining our love. And the internet was fucking relentless. So were the talking heads on T.V. But Goddamn, the trolls and Ariana warriors were something else... they wanted to blame me. Keep on with the same he's not good enough for her, he's ugly, and he's not even funny. As much as I try to play it off, the comments hurt. Like constant stabs from a self-righteous crowd. From Ari's vigilantes. Jesus, it felt like I was in high school again. Alienated and bullied by all those who felt better than me.
Except now the insults hurt even worse considering these assholes had no idea how much I loved Ariana. And now they'll likely never know.
Sometimes, I wonder why Ari couldn't just try to understand me? She just wouldn't listen when I said I never killed when I was in a relationship. When I was happy. Much less when I was about to marry my dreamgirl! I can control these sinister urges. With Ariana, I was happy. I adored her. And together, we brought out the best in our creativity. We did the best work of our careers while in this relationship.
And now here I am back in the gutter. Back in my void of a writer's block. My creativity stifled. My drive more suppressed than the lovely man and woman now tied to my office table.
Here it is three A.M. I'm a few beers in on this lonely Friday night. In my office, my laptop screen is blank. My notebooks blank. I haven't written shit. And I won't for a few months at least.
Sweetener plays on my laptop. The ultra-catchy title track swirls all around me, overpowering the cries of the bound-and-gagged couple.
Wearing a plastic raincoat, I lean back in my chair. I close my eyes and enjoy the music. Relish Ariana's soulful voice. Like a drumstick, I tap the axe handle in my gloved hands.
Enjoying the memories the song provides, I pulled out an old scrapbook from the office shelf. The scrapbook I'd always kept on top of my goody bag.
Looking through the book, I stare at those pictures of me and Ariana with pride. Yeah, I know they're all clipped from newspapers and magazines... but she's still in them. And man, we look sexy together. She looks happy.
As I go further through the book, the photos get older. Like snapshots from my past. You see, this wasn't the first time I was engaged. There was that sweet romance I had back around 2016. Back when I was trying to be a rapper... I told you I've got a lot of hobbies, man. But like with Ariana, I got overshadowed by my first fiancee. She was fierce and strong... a lot like Ariana actually. I loved Nicki Minaj too. And when she found out my secret, well... she had the same reaction Ariana did. She left me. And after all that bliss, I went through months of torture. My only reprieve from the torture was murder. And trust me, I did a lot of that. All for Nicki, of course.
Jesus, me and Nicki looked so good in those pictures too. I was a lot tanner then. But I had serious talent as a rapper. My name Meek Mill was clever. I even had fans. But still, like when I was with Ariana, people always looked to shit on me, man. These talentless, dickless fucks were always criticizing me... Meek Mill ain’t shit Meek is lame. Goddamn, me and Nicki were happy. Nicki loved me. And I loved her.
The clipped photos were starting to yellow with age... but at least I had them preserved forever in this scrapbook. I had Nicki in my memories. The times we were happy. Not to mention, my goody bag had all the "collectibles" I'd taken from the victims she was partially responsible for.
Then I reached another relationship in my Rolodex of memories. This was around early 2016. Before Nicki and back when I was trying to be a DJ/techno genius under the guise Calvin Harris. Pretty lame phase I know. But one good thing did come out of it: I got to date Taylor Swift. Okay, maybe it wasn't as serious as what me and Nicki or me and Ariana had, but Taylor was cool. She had a quirky sense of humor like them.
However, I always got the vibe I loved her more than she loved me. And again, she was much more famous than me! Plus, way younger... so yeah. Even when I had written songs for Rihanna and Ellie Goulding, I was still fodder for Taylor's fan base and internet warriors.
And once she found out my secret. Well, you know how that goes. It set me off even worse when she ditched me in a fucking text message.
Again, all that happiness gave way to an inevitable fall. Those inevitable few months where I kill as many attractive people as possible. People who were so attractive like Taylor.
Man, even with the scrapbook's photos all crumpled and torn, I could still gaze into Taylor's pretty face all night. I could look at all my exes' pretty faces, honestly.
While there a few more relationships buried in the back of the book, I couldn't take any more. The memories were becoming painful. Everything'd gone from bittersweet to brutal so quickly. Like an endless loop of regrets.
Angry, I slammed the scrapbook shut. All around me, Ariana's voice haunted me. Just like my memories with her will forever torment me.
I understand why these women break up with me. I get it. I know I'm strange. Different. Maybe even creepy. And they have their own lives and careers to worry about. Especially when all of them are so damn talented. So much more talented than me. And according to the internet, so much more attractive than me.
In my solemn "fortress," I put the scrapbook back on the shelf. Right on top of my gruesome bag.
It’s weird how this cycle goes. I remember in 2007 after Britney Spears dumped me (Yeah, I was actually married at one point). At the time, I was fairly famous for doing boy band shit. But when I went to a hospital for depression and what people claimed was some sort of delusion disorder or psychosis (LOL), no one believed I was Kevin Federline. Crazy, man. Almost as crazy as the people who tell me I’m not Pete Davidson. But looking back, that break up with Britney was what got me on this... process. The rebound murders.
So now I'm back home in Stanwyck, Georgia. But at least tonight, I'm not alone.
I look over at the office table. The young man and woman keep straining under those tight ropes. But they're not going anywhere. They never do until it's time to drag the leftovers down into the basement.
I already took the guy's baseball cap and girl's bottle opener keychain for safekeeping. All that's left now is the fun part. The only question is who should I stab first and where should I sink this axe's brutal blade?
Honestly, I'm nervous. I haven't killed anyone in over five months. Not since me and Ariana started dating. Murder is like sex, you know. So much of it can be awkward and weird. But unfortunately for this cute couple, I'm a Hell of a lot better at killing than fucking. And with Ariana gone, my motivation is all murder at this point.
The young man and woman's helpless eyes look on at me. As if they sense my hesitancy. My awkwardness. They're like children with feet stuck in the railroad tracks. They're helpless. Oh so helpless.
For a moment there, I considered dropping the axe. Maybe if I let them go, they won't tell anyone. Maybe they really don't recognize me. After all, now that Ari dumped me, what was I famous for? SNL was already losing interest in my work. Not that I'd written jack shit since Ariana left anyway.
But then in the same way Ariana had always inspired me, I heard her voice call to me from the laptop. Her song for me. "pete davidson." However she felt now, Ariana loved me back then. I know she did. And that song always takes me back to that euphoria we both felt. To that place when we were both happy.
Tears sliding down my face, I smiled at my latest victims.
Ariana's soft voice serenaded me. She gave me the strength to carry on.
The man and woman looked confused. Confused and terrified. They stopped whimpering. As if my tears signified I had a change of heart in my murderous intentions.
But I didn't. With "pete davidson" serving as my heartfelt soundtrack, I stood up and pulled the axe back.
Instantly, the couple quivered beneath the ropes. Their horrified cries muffled by the duct tape. Their own tears flowed from their wide-open eyes. Ariana Grande the last voice they'd ever hear. My name the last song they'd ever hear.
And what a song it was. Ariana's voice reassured me like the comforting words of an empathetic mother. Even without Ari's love, this song would forever be my rallying cry.
Chuckling with joy, I hoisted the axe up high over the man's face. Thanks for the memories, Ari. This is for you.
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2018.11.13 17:56 rhonnie14 The Real Reason Ariana Left Me

I don't handle break ups very well. I never have. So yeah, just in case you weren't aware, this last one has me pretty fucked-up.
My spirits are crushed. My frame of mind utterly skullfucked. My drive decimated. I mean yeah, I get like this after every break up. I always do. They're like premature burials for my soul. And the suffering always lingers for far longer than the joy I had while I was dating someone. But this one with Ari... well, it has to be the worst.
At this point, I can't even write. I haven't written shit in weeks. Almost all my hobbies die with my happiness it seems like. I just sit in my home office all night, staring at an unforgiving laptop screen. The booze and smoke does nothing. No books or movies fuel my creative drive. And of course, there's no Ariana around to encourage me.
It's now been almost a month since she dumped me. And the pain still feels fresh. Like I'm forever stuck in that sickening single moment when she told me she no longer loved me. A harsh time loop I can't escape.
I should be used to the bitter break ups by now. Love is like a roller coaster, you know. There's all those anxious moments in the build-up. The fun excitement. And then once you reach that top, the relationship ride is fucking transcendent. You've got optimism. You feel loved. You feel great... and you've got the entire future to feel this way! Things are wonderful. But then the inevitable happens. Like my goofy roller coaster analogy, those moments at the top are fleeting and all too brief before those relationships come hurtling back down. And just like that, the love is over. The joy is gone. You're back off the ride and desperate for that next thrill. Only as you get older, those thrills get so much harder to find...
I thought Ari was it. I thought she got me. I thought she loved me. I mean she loved my writing, my jokes, my creativity. She even thought I was super hot! And I'll be damned, if she didn't make me look more attractive... not because she would be standing next to me like a gorgeous accessory. But she actually helped give me fucking style pointers, man! A new haircut, new clothes... she motivated me to lose weight and get in shape. Yeah, it's superficial bullshit, I get that. But I felt better. I'd never felt as attractive or confident than with her. Being unconventionally handsome and eccentric will make you self-conscious, guys. It will give you nervous tics/habits that make you look spastic as fuck. But Ari took me out of that! She was like a pretty therapist. My pretty therapist.
And this therapist was also my creative partner. She pushed me in my writing. I wasn't just imagining this shit either... people actually laughed at my jokes more than they ever had before. SNL showed off more of my work. I became more prolific. And I was so damn consistent! My creative fire flourished like never before. Maybe I'd become more famous because of Ariana, but I rose to the challenge with excellent fucking material. Shit I was proud of too! I'm talking I'd spend hours in my office each night just cranking out brilliance. A mad scientist of comedy! I couldn't miss. At least, I felt that way. And I had no one except Ari to thank for that.
And not to brag but I feel like I had a similar effect on her music. She admired my prolific creativity. My vision. How hard I worked. And I know it rubbed off on her during those Sweetener sessions. On that album, she had more creative control than ever. She told me she felt like a true artist on this one. Better production value, more innovation, and she'd even written the vast majority of the songs. She was proud of her masterpiece and deservedly so. And Goddamn, she could sing! But then again, you lovely people already knew that.
Until I first heard Sweetener, I had no idea there was even a track named after me. A sweet, short track (About as long as our relationship, right! Yeah, I've only heard that bullshit a hundred times! ZOMG!1! still so Goddamn funny!1!11). But I could hear the emotion in her voice. The Ari I knew. Her tender emotions. She meant those lyrics. Every fucking word. We'll call it ninety seconds of bliss... and yeah, maybe our relationship was just five months of bliss. But it was still the best five months of my life. And naming a song for me was akin to John Belushi literally crawling out of the grave to tell me I was one of the funniest motherfuckers to ever come out of the SNL family. That song meant even more considering it wasn't high praise coming from my deceased idol but instead from my one true love.
And through it all, I dealt with all the bullshit. The low blows. Yeah, I mean motherfuckers like you assholes reading this. You're probably now talking about what a loser I am to be using a burner on Reddit while complaining about my beautiful-and-immensely-more-talented ex-girlfriend. Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second, thank you for reading this.
But yeah, the constant criticism got old, man. I get it. Ariana's gorgeous. I'm not. I'm sorry that the world and Twitter never considered me worthy of Ari. I'm sorry I could never live up to whatever Magic-Mike/Michael-B.-Jordan-level expectations you motherfuckers had. I'm just a geeky, neurotic comedy writer, alright. Yeah, I hit the jackpot with that girl. So fucking be it. He isn't worthy, he's creepy looking, what's she doing with his uglyass, he ain't even famous. I get it. You don't have to keep fucking reminding me. I'm in mourning now, Goddammit! And whether you like it or not, I loved Ariana. And she loved me.
Maybe I could've been better... and when Mac died, it hurt both of us. I didn't care about their history. Mac was my friend, he was a nice dude. I still bawled like a bitch when I heard what happened. Shit, I cried as much as Ariana did.
Ultimately, I really wish things had worked out between us, man. I really do... I still do. She brought out the best in me. Ari was my inspiration. My creative muse, the most beautiful girl I'd ever met, and my partner-in-crime. The Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell. Not to mention Ari's actually funny as shit. Her help took my best work from being just okay to fucking brilliant. And I like to think I was a major factor in her evolution as a songwriter.
But deep down, I know she had no choice. I can't blame or fault her for what happened. I do know Ari's strong as fuck though. She'll get through this and keep making dopeass music. Her songwriting will only get better... which is terrifying since she's so fucking young, man. How the Hell do you write perfect pop music at twenty-five? Maybe it's too soon and maybe I'm just overdosing on love, but her trajectory is no different than John Lennon's, man. Her music is only getting more and more mature. And she still has the voice of Aretha. I can't think of any other teen idol who's made such a seamless transition to being a full-fledged superstar quite like her. She's an icon. And yeah. I was once her fiance. Now, I'm just a footnote to her brilliant career.
However, there was more to our break up than anyone else knows. There was more to it than just a collision of our creativity. Or our volatile emotions. Ariana found out about what was really in my home office. She found out about my past. And what I'd kept hidden in my basement all these years.
With our engagement, the pressure to tell her the truth finally broke me down. She knew I'd had problems in the past. She knew I didn't handle those other break ups too well... so finally, I just had to tell her the truth. I felt compelled.
And so I did, I told her everything. I told her how those last couple of break ups had emotionally drained me. And how empty I felt afterward. I told her how I'd lost the most important thing to me during those long months I spent alone and heartbroken: my creativity. I couldn't write shit. I was losing spots on SNL.
The loneliness ate me alive on the inside. Yeah, I smoked. I drank. But no one really wanted to chill with me. I felt isolated... and my anger only increased.
Through the tears, I told Ariana how I'd pick up strangers at bars and clubs. Men, women, it didn't matter. I'd bring them back to my office and kill them. I'd torture them. What creativity I'd lost in my writing, I'd rekindle here in my makeshift "torture chamber."
I had so many weapons. My mood helped me dictate what kind of slaughter I wanted to create. There were the nights I used tools (a hammer, a saw), there were nights I used those always reliable knives. And sometimes... well, fuck it, sometimes I got real creative and used whatever I laid my hungry eyes on (broken CDs, stapler... yeah, this was more messy but more fun).
No one could hear my victims scream. I lived out in the country after all. My home office was a fortress for my vicious focus. Soundproof walls, no windows. The long table just sturdy enough to hold up all the fit and skinny models (both male and female) I butchered.
I made sure my victims didn't recognize me either... I mean shit, I hardly had any fans as is, so why kill them? These were just airheads and meatheads. Dimbulb pretty people. The same ones who'd always criticized me for not being good enough for Ari. But fuck them, they were good enough to have me hack them to fucking pieces.
I'd kill them in my office and then bury them down in the basement. The set-up was perfect. No one ever knew. And no one suspected a thing. After all, how could they? Me, the awkward, goofy-looking comedian being a methodical and clever serial killer? They said I wasn't even good enough to be Ariana's fiancee much less be Patrick fucking Bateman!
Of course, in due time, I'd recover from these killing sprees. Like I always did. I'd stop the murders and get back in the groove within the confines of my home office. I'd get back to writing. Back to my prolific ways... of course, my creativity would only accelerate once I dated a new girl. Especially with Ari.
But at first, she didn't even believe my dark secrets. I had to dig up the bodies and show her what was left. The bones covered with tattered flesh. The decaying severed heads. The collection of items I'd kept in my office.
After all, I liked "trophies." I liked keeping track of my gruesome progress while also preserving the exciting memories. There was jewelry, wallets, keychains. I kept all of them in a large Ziploc storage bag... the bag weighed down by both the items and the gallons of my victims' blood. Keeping that bag made me feel like a proud mother with a scrapbook of her child's accomplishments. Just like my mom had done for me. Only my bag was a shrine to me being the badass. I wasn't just the awkward, unattractive boyfriend anymore. I was the fucking killer! And the bag proved it!
When I showed it to Ari in my office, she lost it right then and there. I tried pleading with her that she was safe. I never killed my exes and would never hurt the love of my life. Her confidence crumbled and she looked scared. Looking into my victims' dying eyes never made me feel as ravaged as looking into Ariana's terrified eyes at that moment.
Desperate, I tried to tell her I wouldn't kill again. Regardless of all the evil I'd done, I could control it! Just as long as she stayed with me. As long as she could compromise with me like I'd done with her so many times in the past. If she was curious or had a bloodlust (how amazing that would be!), I'd even bring her along on these trips. And then in my office, we'd kill together! We'd share the thrills and excitement. A sexy killer couple ripe for tabloid headlines and round-the-clock E! coverage.
But Ari couldn't handle it. She left me in tears. And I was left holding my goody bag in tears. I didn't chase after her. She knew I loved her. But ultimately, I can't blame Ariana for later ending our engagement and blocking my number and social media. A week later, she sent me my ring back. My worst fear had arrived. Ariana had left me. I'd scared away the woman I loved. And I had no one to blame but myself.
I wasn't mad at her. Not ever. My murders would be hard for anyone to accept. Much less a superstar with as pure a heart as Ari's. If she had no "dark side" or even a morbid curiosity, it'd only make sense she'd call off the wedding.
But I was still upset. I felt terrible about ruining our love. And the internet was fucking relentless. So were the talking heads on T.V. But Goddamn, the trolls and Ariana warriors were something else... they wanted to blame me. Keep on with the same he's not good enough for her, he's ugly, and he's not even funny. As much as I try to play it off, the comments hurt. Like constant stabs from a self-righteous crowd. From Ari's vigilantes. Jesus, it felt like I was in high school again. Alienated and bullied by all those who felt better than me.
Except now the insults hurt even worse considering these assholes had no idea how much I loved Ariana. And now they'll likely never know.
Sometimes, I wonder why Ari couldn't just try to understand me? She just wouldn't listen when I said I never killed when I was in a relationship. When I was happy. Much less when I was about to marry my dreamgirl! I can control these sinister urges. With Ariana, I was happy. I adored her. And together, we brought out the best in our creativity. We did the best work of our careers while in this relationship.
And now here I am back in the gutter. Back in my void of a writer's block. My creativity stifled. My drive more suppressed than the lovely man and woman now tied to my office table.
Here it is three A.M. I'm a few beers in on this lonely Friday night. In my office, my laptop screen is blank. My notebooks blank. I haven't written shit. And I won't for a few months at least.
Sweetener plays on my laptop. The ultra-catchy title track swirls all around me, overpowering the cries of the bound-and-gagged couple.
Wearing a plastic raincoat, I lean back in my chair. I close my eyes and enjoy the music. Relish Ariana's soulful voice. Like a drumstick, I tap the axe handle in my gloved hands.
Enjoying the memories the song provides, I pulled out an old scrapbook from the office shelf. The scrapbook I'd always kept on top of my goody bag.
Looking through the book, I stare at those pictures of me and Ariana with pride. Yeah, I know they're all clipped from newspapers and magazines... but she's still in them. And man, we look sexy together. She looks happy.
As I go further through the book, the photos get older. Like snapshots from my past. You see, this wasn't the first time I was engaged. There was that sweet romance I had back around 2016. Back when I was trying to be a rapper... I told you I've got a lot of hobbies, man. But like with Ariana, I got overshadowed by my first fiancee. She was fierce and strong... a lot like Ariana actually. I loved Nicki Minaj too. And when she found out my secret, well... she had the same reaction Ariana did. She left me. And after all that bliss, I went through months of torture. My only reprieve from the torture was murder. And trust me, I did a lot of that. All for Nicki, of course.
Jesus, me and Nicki looked so good in those pictures too. I was a lot tanner then. But I had serious talent as a rapper. My name Meek Mill was clever. I even had fans. But still, like when I was with Ariana, people always looked to shit on me, man. These talentless, dickless fucks were always criticizing me... Meek Mill ain’t shit Meek is lame. Goddamn, me and Nicki were happy. Nicki loved me. And I loved her.
The clipped photos were starting to yellow with age... but at least I had them preserved forever in this scrapbook. I had Nicki in my memories. The times we were happy. Not to mention, my goody bag had all the "collectibles" I'd taken from the victims she was partially responsible for.
Then I reached another relationship in my Rolodex of memories. This was around early 2016. Before Nicki and back when I was trying to be a DJ/techno genius under the guise Calvin Harris. Pretty lame phase I know. But one good thing did come out of it: I got to date Taylor Swift. Okay, maybe it wasn't as serious as what me and Nicki or me and Ariana had, but Taylor was cool. She had a quirky sense of humor like them.
However, I always got the vibe I loved her more than she loved me. And again, she was much more famous than me! Plus, way younger... so yeah. Even when I had written songs for Rihanna and Ellie Goulding, I was still fodder for Taylor's fan base and internet warriors.
And once she found out my secret. Well, you know how that goes. It set me off even worse when she ditched me in a fucking text message.
Again, all that happiness gave way to an inevitable fall. Those inevitable few months where I kill as many attractive people as possible. People who were so attractive like Taylor.
Man, even with the scrapbook's photos all crumpled and torn, I could still gaze into Taylor's pretty face all night. I could look at all my exes' pretty faces, honestly.
While there a few more relationships buried in the back of the book, I couldn't take any more. The memories were becoming painful. Everything'd gone from bittersweet to brutal so quickly. Like an endless loop of regrets.
Angry, I slammed the scrapbook shut. All around me, Ariana's voice haunted me. Just like my memories with her will forever torment me.
I understand why these women break up with me. I get it. I know I'm strange. Different. Maybe even creepy. And they have their own lives and careers to worry about. Especially when all of them are so damn talented. So much more talented than me. And according to the internet, so much more attractive than me.
In my solemn "fortress," I put the scrapbook back on the shelf. Right on top of my gruesome bag.
It’s weird how this cycle goes. I remember in 2007 after Britney Spears dumped me (Yeah, I was actually married at one point). At the time, I was fairly famous for doing boy band shit. But when I went to a hospital for depression and what people claimed was some sort of delusion disorder or psychosis (LOL), no one believed I was Kevin Federline. Crazy, man. Almost as crazy as the people who tell me I’m not Pete Davidson. But looking back, that break up with Britney was what got me on this... process. The rebound murders.
So now I'm back home in Stanwyck, Georgia. But at least tonight, I'm not alone.
I look over at the office table. The young man and woman keep straining under those tight ropes. But they're not going anywhere. They never do until it's time to drag the leftovers down into the basement.
I already took the guy's baseball cap and girl's bottle opener keychain for safekeeping. All that's left now is the fun part. The only question is who should I stab first and where should I sink this axe's brutal blade?
Honestly, I'm nervous. I haven't killed anyone in over five months. Not since me and Ariana started dating. Murder is like sex, you know. So much of it can be awkward and weird. But unfortunately for this cute couple, I'm a Hell of a lot better at killing than fucking. And with Ariana gone, my motivation is all murder at this point.
The young man and woman's helpless eyes look on at me. As if they sense my hesitancy. My awkwardness. They're like children with feet stuck in the railroad tracks. They're helpless. Oh so helpless.
For a moment there, I considered dropping the axe. Maybe if I let them go, they won't tell anyone. Maybe they really don't recognize me. After all, now that Ari dumped me, what was I famous for? SNL was already losing interest in my work. Not that I'd written jack shit since Ariana left anyway.
But then in the same way Ariana had always inspired me, I heard her voice call to me from the laptop. Her song for me. "pete davidson." However she felt now, Ariana loved me back then. I know she did. And that song always takes me back to that euphoria we both felt. To that place when we were both happy.
Tears sliding down my face, I smiled at my latest victims.
Ariana's soft voice serenaded me. She gave me the strength to carry on.
The man and woman looked confused. Confused and terrified. They stopped whimpering. As if my tears signified I had a change of heart in my murderous intentions.
But I didn't. With "pete davidson" serving as my heartfelt soundtrack, I stood up and pulled the axe back.
Instantly, the couple quivered beneath the ropes. Their horrified cries muffled by the duct tape. Their own tears flowed from their wide-open eyes. Ariana Grande the last voice they'd ever hear. My name the last song they'd ever hear.
And what a song it was. Ariana's voice reassured me like the comforting words of an empathetic mother. Even without Ari's love, this song would forever be my rallying cry.
Chuckling with joy, I hoisted the axe up high over the man's face. Thanks for the memories, Ari. This is for you.
submitted by rhonnie14 to DarkTales [link] [comments]


2018.11.13 02:30 rhonnie14 The Real Reason Ariana Left Me

I don't handle break ups very well. I never have. So yeah, just in case you weren't aware, this last one has me pretty fucked-up.
My spirits are crushed. My frame of mind utterly skullfucked. My drive decimated. I mean yeah, I get like this after every break up. I always do. They're like premature burials for my soul. And the suffering always lingers for far longer than the joy I had while I was dating someone. But this one with Ari... well, it has to be the worst.
At this point, I can't even write. I haven't written shit in weeks. Almost all my hobbies die with my happiness it seems like. I just sit in my home office all night, staring at an unforgiving laptop screen. The booze and smoke does nothing. No books or movies fuel my creative drive. And of course, there's no Ariana around to encourage me.
It's now been almost a month since she dumped me. And the pain still feels fresh. Like I'm forever stuck in that sickening single moment when she told me she no longer loved me. A harsh time loop I can't escape.
I should be used to the bitter break ups by now. Love is like a roller coaster, you know. There's all those anxious moments in the build-up. The fun excitement. And then once you reach that top, the relationship ride is fucking transcendent. You've got optimism. You feel loved. You feel great... and you've got the entire future to feel this way! Things are wonderful. But then the inevitable happens. Like my goofy roller coaster analogy, those moments at the top are fleeting and all too brief before those relationships come hurtling back down. And just like that, the love is over. The joy is gone. You're back off the ride and desperate for that next thrill. Only as you get older, those thrills get so much harder to find...
I thought Ari was it. I thought she got me. I thought she loved me. I mean she loved my writing, my jokes, my creativity. She even thought I was super hot! And I'll be damned, if she didn't make me look more attractive... not because she would be standing next to me like a gorgeous accessory. But she actually helped give me fucking style pointers, man! A new haircut, new clothes... she motivated me to lose weight and get in shape. Yeah, it's superficial bullshit, I get that. But I felt better. I'd never felt as attractive or confident than with her. Being unconventionally handsome and eccentric will make you self-conscious, guys. It will give you nervous tics/habits that make you look spastic as fuck. But Ari took me out of that! She was like a pretty therapist. My pretty therapist.
And this therapist was also my creative partner. She pushed me in my writing. I wasn't just imagining this shit either... people actually laughed at my jokes more than they ever had before. SNL showed off more of my work. I became more prolific. And I was so damn consistent! My creative fire flourished like never before. Maybe I'd become more famous because of Ariana, but I rose to the challenge with excellent fucking material. Shit I was proud of too! I'm talking I'd spend hours in my office each night just cranking out brilliance. A mad scientist of comedy! I couldn't miss. At least, I felt that way. And I had no one except Ari to thank for that.
And not to brag but I feel like I had a similar effect on her music. She admired my prolific creativity. My vision. How hard I worked. And I know it rubbed off on her during those Sweetener sessions. On that album, she had more creative control than ever. She told me she felt like a true artist on this one. Better production value, more innovation, and she'd even written the vast majority of the songs. She was proud of her masterpiece and deservedly so. And Goddamn, she could sing! But then again, you lovely people already knew that.
Until I first heard Sweetener, I had no idea there was even a track named after me. A sweet, short track (About as long as our relationship, right! Yeah, I've only heard that bullshit a hundred times! ZOMG!1! still so Goddamn funny!1!11). But I could hear the emotion in her voice. The Ari I knew. Her tender emotions. She meant those lyrics. Every fucking word. We'll call it ninety seconds of bliss... and yeah, maybe our relationship was just five months of bliss. But it was still the best five months of my life. And naming a song for me was akin to John Belushi literally crawling out of the grave to tell me I was one of the funniest motherfuckers to ever come out of the SNL family. That song meant even more considering it wasn't high praise coming from my deceased idol but instead from my one true love.
And through it all, I dealt with all the bullshit. The low blows. Yeah, I mean motherfuckers like you assholes reading this. You're probably now talking about what a loser I am to be using a burner on Reddit while complaining about my beautiful-and-immensely-more-talented ex-girlfriend. Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second, thank you for reading this.
But yeah, the constant criticism got old, man. I get it. Ariana's gorgeous. I'm not. I'm sorry that the world and Twitter never considered me worthy of Ari. I'm sorry I could never live up to whatever Magic-Mike/Michael-B.-Jordan-level expectations you motherfuckers had. I'm just a geeky, neurotic comedy writer, alright. Yeah, I hit the jackpot with that girl. So fucking be it. He isn't worthy, he's creepy looking, what's she doing with his uglyass, he ain't even famous. I get it. You don't have to keep fucking reminding me. I'm in mourning now, Goddammit! And whether you like it or not, I loved Ariana. And she loved me.
Maybe I could've been better... and when Mac died, it hurt both of us. I didn't care about their history. Mac was my friend, he was a nice dude. I still bawled like a bitch when I heard what happened. Shit, I cried as much as Ariana did.
Ultimately, I really wish things had worked out between us, man. I really do... I still do. She brought out the best in me. Ari was my inspiration. My creative muse, the most beautiful girl I'd ever met, and my partner-in-crime. The Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell. Not to mention Ari's actually funny as shit. Her help took my best work from being just okay to fucking brilliant. And I like to think I was a major factor in her evolution as a songwriter.
But deep down, I know she had no choice. I can't blame or fault her for what happened. I do know Ari's strong as fuck though. She'll get through this and keep making dopeass music. Her songwriting will only get better... which is terrifying since she's so fucking young, man. How the Hell do you write perfect pop music at twenty-five? Maybe it's too soon and maybe I'm just overdosing on love, but her trajectory is no different than John Lennon's, man. Her music is only getting more and more mature. And she still has the voice of Aretha. I can't think of any other teen idol who's made such a seamless transition to being a full-fledged superstar quite like her. She's an icon. And yeah. I was once her fiance. Now, I'm just a footnote to her brilliant career.
However, there was more to our break up than anyone else knows. There was more to it than just a collision of our creativity. Or our volatile emotions. Ariana found out about what was really in my home office. She found out about my past. And what I'd kept hidden in my basement all these years.
With our engagement, the pressure to tell her the truth finally broke me down. She knew I'd had problems in the past. She knew I didn't handle those other break ups too well... so finally, I just had to tell her the truth. I felt compelled.
And so I did, I told her everything. I told her how those last couple of break ups had emotionally drained me. And how empty I felt afterward. I told her how I'd lost the most important thing to me during those long months I spent alone and heartbroken: my creativity. I couldn't write shit. I was losing spots on SNL.
The loneliness ate me alive on the inside. Yeah, I smoked. I drank. But no one really wanted to chill with me. I felt isolated... and my anger only increased.
Through the tears, I told Ariana how I'd pick up strangers at bars and clubs. Men, women, it didn't matter. I'd bring them back to my office and kill them. I'd torture them. What creativity I'd lost in my writing, I'd rekindle here in my makeshift "torture chamber."
I had so many weapons. My mood helped me dictate what kind of slaughter I wanted to create. There were the nights I used tools (a hammer, a saw), there were nights I used those always reliable knives. And sometimes... well, fuck it, sometimes I got real creative and used whatever I laid my hungry eyes on (broken CDs, stapler... yeah, this was more messy but more fun).
No one could hear my victims scream. I lived out in the country after all. My home office was a fortress for my vicious focus. Soundproof walls, no windows. The long table just sturdy enough to hold up all the fit and skinny models (both male and female) I butchered.
I made sure my victims didn't recognize me either... I mean shit, I hardly had any fans as is, so why kill them? These were just airheads and meatheads. Dimbulb pretty people. The same ones who'd always criticized me for not being good enough for Ari. But fuck them, they were good enough to have me hack them to fucking pieces.
I'd kill them in my office and then bury them down in the basement. The set-up was perfect. No one ever knew. And no one suspected a thing. After all, how could they? Me, the awkward, goofy-looking comedian being a methodical and clever serial killer? They said I wasn't even good enough to be Ariana's fiancee much less be Patrick fucking Bateman!
Of course, in due time, I'd recover from these killing sprees. Like I always did. I'd stop the murders and get back in the groove within the confines of my home office. I'd get back to writing. Back to my prolific ways... of course, my creativity would only accelerate once I dated a new girl. Especially with Ari.
But at first, she didn't even believe my dark secrets. I had to dig up the bodies and show her what was left. The bones covered with tattered flesh. The decaying severed heads. The collection of items I'd kept in my office.
After all, I liked "trophies." I liked keeping track of my gruesome progress while also preserving the exciting memories. There was jewelry, wallets, keychains. I kept all of them in a large Ziploc storage bag... the bag weighed down by both the items and the gallons of my victims' blood. Keeping that bag made me feel like a proud mother with a scrapbook of her child's accomplishments. Just like my mom had done for me. Only my bag was a shrine to me being the badass. I wasn't just the awkward, unattractive boyfriend anymore. I was the fucking killer! And the bag proved it!
When I showed it to Ari in my office, she lost it right then and there. I tried pleading with her that she was safe. I never killed my exes and would never hurt the love of my life. Her confidence crumbled and she looked scared. Looking into my victims' dying eyes never made me feel as ravaged as looking into Ariana's terrified eyes at that moment.
Desperate, I tried to tell her I wouldn't kill again. Regardless of all the evil I'd done, I could control it! Just as long as she stayed with me. As long as she could compromise with me like I'd done with her so many times in the past. If she was curious or had a bloodlust (how amazing that would be!), I'd even bring her along on these trips. And then in my office, we'd kill together! We'd share the thrills and excitement. A sexy killer couple ripe for tabloid headlines and round-the-clock E! coverage.
But Ari couldn't handle it. She left me in tears. And I was left holding my goody bag in tears. I didn't chase after her. She knew I loved her. But ultimately, I can't blame Ariana for later ending our engagement and blocking my number and social media. A week later, she sent me my ring back. My worst fear had arrived. Ariana had left me. I'd scared away the woman I loved. And I had no one to blame but myself.
I wasn't mad at her. Not ever. My murders would be hard for anyone to accept. Much less a superstar with as pure a heart as Ari's. If she had no "dark side" or even a morbid curiosity, it'd only make sense she'd call off the wedding.
But I was still upset. I felt terrible about ruining our love. And the internet was fucking relentless. So were the talking heads on T.V. But Goddamn, the trolls and Ariana warriors were something else... they wanted to blame me. Keep on with the same he's not good enough for her, he's ugly, and he's not even funny. As much as I try to play it off, the comments hurt. Like constant stabs from a self-righteous crowd. From Ari's vigilantes. Jesus, it felt like I was in high school again. Alienated and bullied by all those who felt better than me.
Except now the insults hurt even worse considering these assholes had no idea how much I loved Ariana. And now they'll likely never know.
Sometimes, I wonder why Ari couldn't just try to understand me? She just wouldn't listen when I said I never killed when I was in a relationship. When I was happy. Much less when I was about to marry my dreamgirl! I can control these sinister urges. With Ariana, I was happy. I adored her. And together, we brought out the best in our creativity. We did the best work of our careers while in this relationship.
And now here I am back in the gutter. Back in my void of a writer's block. My creativity stifled. My drive more suppressed than the lovely man and woman now tied to my office table.
Here it is three A.M. I'm a few beers in on this lonely Friday night. In my office, my laptop screen is blank. My notebooks blank. I haven't written shit. And I won't for a few months at least.
Sweetener plays on my laptop. The ultra-catchy title track swirls all around me, overpowering the cries of the bound-and-gagged couple.
Wearing a plastic raincoat, I lean back in my chair. I close my eyes and enjoy the music. Relish Ariana's soulful voice. Like a drumstick, I tap the axe handle in my gloved hands.
Enjoying the memories the song provides, I pulled out an old scrapbook from the office shelf. The scrapbook I'd always kept on top of my goody bag.
Looking through the book, I stare at those pictures of me and Ariana with pride. Yeah, I know they're all clipped from newspapers and magazines... but she's still in them. And man, we look sexy together. She looks happy.
As I go further through the book, the photos get older. Like snapshots from my past. You see, this wasn't the first time I was engaged. There was that sweet romance I had back around 2016. Back when I was trying to be a rapper... I told you I've got a lot of hobbies, man. But like with Ariana, I got overshadowed by my first fiancee. She was fierce and strong... a lot like Ariana actually. I loved Nicki Minaj too. And when she found out my secret, well... she had the same reaction Ariana did. She left me. And after all that bliss, I went through months of torture. My only reprieve from the torture was murder. And trust me, I did a lot of that. All for Nicki, of course.
Jesus, me and Nicki looked so good in those pictures too. I was a lot tanner then. But I had serious talent as a rapper. My name Meek Mill was clever. I even had fans. But still, like when I was with Ariana, people always looked to shit on me, man. These talentless, dickless fucks were always criticizing me... Meek Mill ain’t shit Meek is lame. Goddamn, me and Nicki were happy. Nicki loved me. And I loved her.
The clipped photos were starting to yellow with age... but at least I had them preserved forever in this scrapbook. I had Nicki in my memories. The times we were happy. Not to mention, my goody bag had all the "collectibles" I'd taken from the victims she was partially responsible for.
Then I reached another relationship in my Rolodex of memories. This was around early 2016. Before Nicki and back when I was trying to be a DJ/techno genius under the guise Calvin Harris. Pretty lame phase I know. But one good thing did come out of it: I got to date Taylor Swift. Okay, maybe it wasn't as serious as what me and Nicki or me and Ariana had, but Taylor was cool. She had a quirky sense of humor like them.
However, I always got the vibe I loved her more than she loved me. And again, she was much more famous than me! Plus, way younger... so yeah. Even when I had written songs for Rihanna and Ellie Goulding, I was still fodder for Taylor's fan base and internet warriors.
And once she found out my secret. Well, you know how that goes. It set me off even worse when she ditched me in a fucking text message.
Again, all that happiness gave way to an inevitable fall. Those inevitable few months where I kill as many attractive people as possible. People who were so attractive like Taylor.
Man, even with the scrapbook's photos all crumpled and torn, I could still gaze into Taylor's pretty face all night. I could look at all my exes' pretty faces, honestly.
While there a few more relationships buried in the back of the book, I couldn't take any more. The memories were becoming painful. Everything'd gone from bittersweet to brutal so quickly. Like an endless loop of regrets.
Angry, I slammed the scrapbook shut. All around me, Ariana's voice haunted me. Just like my memories with her will forever torment me.
I understand why these women break up with me. I get it. I know I'm strange. Different. Maybe even creepy. And they have their own lives and careers to worry about. Especially when all of them are so damn talented. So much more talented than me. And according to the internet, so much more attractive than me.
In my solemn "fortress," I put the scrapbook back on the shelf. Right on top of my gruesome bag.
It’s weird how this cycle goes. I remember in 2007 after Britney Spears dumped me (Yeah, I was actually married at one point). At the time, I was fairly famous for doing boy band shit. But when I went to a hospital for depression and what people claimed was some sort of delusion disorder or psychosis (LOL), no one believed I was Kevin Federline. Crazy, man. Almost as crazy as the people who tell me I’m not Pete Davidson. But looking back, that break up with Britney was what got me on this... process. The rebound murders.
So now I'm back home in Stanwyck, Georgia. But at least tonight, I'm not alone.
I look over at the office table. The young man and woman keep straining under those tight ropes. But they're not going anywhere. They never do until it's time to drag the leftovers down into the basement.
I already took the guy's baseball cap and girl's bottle opener keychain for safekeeping. All that's left now is the fun part. The only question is who should I stab first and where should I sink this axe's brutal blade?
Honestly, I'm nervous. I haven't killed anyone in over five months. Not since me and Ariana started dating. Murder is like sex, you know. So much of it can be awkward and weird. But unfortunately for this cute couple, I'm a Hell of a lot better at killing than fucking. And with Ariana gone, my motivation is all murder at this point.
The young man and woman's helpless eyes look on at me. As if they sense my hesitancy. My awkwardness. They're like children with feet stuck in the railroad tracks. They're helpless. Oh so helpless.
For a moment there, I considered dropping the axe. Maybe if I let them go, they won't tell anyone. Maybe they really don't recognize me. After all, now that Ari dumped me, what was I famous for? SNL was already losing interest in my work. Not that I'd written jack shit since Ariana left anyway.
But then in the same way Ariana had always inspired me, I heard her voice call to me from the laptop. Her song for me. "pete davidson." However she felt now, Ariana loved me back then. I know she did. And that song always takes me back to that euphoria we both felt. To that place when we were both happy.
Tears sliding down my face, I smiled at my latest victims.
Ariana's soft voice serenaded me. She gave me the strength to carry on.
The man and woman looked confused. Confused and terrified. They stopped whimpering. As if my tears signified I had a change of heart in my murderous intentions.
But I didn't. With "pete davidson" serving as my heartfelt soundtrack, I stood up and pulled the axe back.
Instantly, the couple quivered beneath the ropes. Their horrified cries muffled by the duct tape. Their own tears flowed from their wide-open eyes. Ariana Grande the last voice they'd ever hear. My name the last song they'd ever hear.
And what a song it was. Ariana's voice reassured me like the comforting words of an empathetic mother. Even without Ari's love, this song would forever be my rallying cry.
Chuckling with joy, I hoisted the axe up high over the man's face. Thanks for the memories, Ari. This is for you.
submitted by rhonnie14 to foulweather [link] [comments]


2018.11.12 20:44 rhonnie14 The Real Reason Ariana Left Me

I don't handle break ups very well. I never have. So yeah, just in case you weren't aware, this last one has me pretty fucked-up.
My spirits are crushed. My frame of mind utterly skullfucked. My drive decimated. I mean yeah, I get like this after every break up. I always do. They're like premature burials for my soul. And the suffering always lingers for far longer than the joy I had while I was dating someone. But this one with Ari... well, it has to be the worst.
At this point, I can't even write. I haven't written shit in weeks. Almost all my hobbies die with my happiness it seems like. I just sit in my home office all night, staring at an unforgiving laptop screen. The booze and smoke does nothing. No books or movies fuel my creative drive. And of course, there's no Ariana around to encourage me.
It's now been almost a month since she dumped me. And the pain still feels fresh. Like I'm forever stuck in that sickening single moment when she told me she no longer loved me. A harsh time loop I can't escape.
I should be used to the bitter break ups by now. Love is like a roller coaster, you know. There's all those anxious moments in the build-up. The fun excitement. And then once you reach that top, the relationship ride is fucking transcendent. You've got optimism. You feel loved. You feel great... and you've got the entire future to feel this way! Things are wonderful. But then the inevitable happens. Like my goofy roller coaster analogy, those moments at the top are fleeting and all too brief before those relationships come hurtling back down. And just like that, the love is over. The joy is gone. You're back off the ride and desperate for that next thrill. Only as you get older, those thrills get so much harder to find...
I thought Ari was it. I thought she got me. I thought she loved me. I mean she loved my writing, my jokes, my creativity. She even thought I was super hot! And I'll be damned, if she didn't make me look more attractive... not because she would be standing next to me like a gorgeous accessory. But she actually helped give me fucking style pointers, man! A new haircut, new clothes... she motivated me to lose weight and get in shape. Yeah, it's superficial bullshit, I get that. But I felt better. I'd never felt as attractive or confident than with her. Being unconventionally handsome and eccentric will make you self-conscious, guys. It will give you nervous tics/habits that make you look spastic as fuck. But Ari took me out of that! She was like a pretty therapist. My pretty therapist.
And this therapist was also my creative partner. She pushed me in my writing. I wasn't just imagining this shit either... people actually laughed at my jokes more than they ever had before. SNL showed off more of my work. I became more prolific. And I was so damn consistent! My creative fire flourished like never before. Maybe I'd become more famous because of Ariana, but I rose to the challenge with excellent fucking material. Shit I was proud of too! I'm talking I'd spend hours in my office each night just cranking out brilliance. A mad scientist of comedy! I couldn't miss. At least, I felt that way. And I had no one except Ari to thank for that.
And not to brag but I feel like I had a similar effect on her music. She admired my prolific creativity. My vision. How hard I worked. And I know it rubbed off on her during those Sweetener sessions. On that album, she had more creative control than ever. She told me she felt like a true artist on this one. Better production value, more innovation, and she'd even written the vast majority of the songs. She was proud of her masterpiece and deservedly so. And Goddamn, she could sing! But then again, you lovely people already knew that.
Until I first heard Sweetener, I had no idea there was even a track named after me. A sweet, short track (About as long as our relationship, right! Yeah, I've only heard that bullshit a hundred times! ZOMG!1! still so Goddamn funny!1!11). But I could hear the emotion in her voice. The Ari I knew. Her tender emotions. She meant those lyrics. Every fucking word. We'll call it ninety seconds of bliss... and yeah, maybe our relationship was just five months of bliss. But it was still the best five months of my life. And naming a song for me was akin to John Belushi literally crawling out of the grave to tell me I was one of the funniest motherfuckers to ever come out of the SNL family. That song meant even more considering it wasn't high praise coming from my deceased idol but instead from my one true love.
And through it all, I dealt with all the bullshit. The low blows. Yeah, I mean motherfuckers like you assholes reading this. You're probably now talking about what a loser I am to be using a burner on Reddit while complaining about my beautiful-and-immensely-more-talented ex-girlfriend. Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second, thank you for reading this.
But yeah, the constant criticism got old, man. I get it. Ariana's gorgeous. I'm not. I'm sorry that the world and Twitter never considered me worthy of Ari. I'm sorry I could never live up to whatever Magic-Mike/Michael-B.-Jordan-level expectations you motherfuckers had. I'm just a geeky, neurotic comedy writer, alright. Yeah, I hit the jackpot with that girl. So fucking be it. He isn't worthy, he's creepy looking, what's she doing with his uglyass, he ain't even famous. I get it. You don't have to keep fucking reminding me. I'm in mourning now, Goddammit! And whether you like it or not, I loved Ariana. And she loved me.
Maybe I could've been better... and when Mac died, it hurt both of us. I didn't care about their history. Mac was my friend, he was a nice dude. I still bawled like a bitch when I heard what happened. Shit, I cried as much as Ariana did.
Ultimately, I really wish things had worked out between us, man. I really do... I still do. She brought out the best in me. Ari was my inspiration. My creative muse, the most beautiful girl I'd ever met, and my partner-in-crime. The Goldie Hawn to my Kurt Russell. Not to mention Ari's actually funny as shit. Her help took my best work from being just okay to fucking brilliant. And I like to think I was a major factor in her evolution as a songwriter.
But deep down, I know she had no choice. I can't blame or fault her for what happened. I do know Ari's strong as fuck though. She'll get through this and keep making dopeass music. Her songwriting will only get better... which is terrifying since she's so fucking young, man. How the Hell do you write perfect pop music at twenty-five? Maybe it's too soon and maybe I'm just overdosing on love, but her trajectory is no different than John Lennon's, man. Her music is only getting more and more mature. And she still has the voice of Aretha. I can't think of any other teen idol who's made such a seamless transition to being a full-fledged superstar quite like her. She's an icon. And yeah. I was once her fiance. Now, I'm just a footnote to her brilliant career.
However, there was more to our break up than anyone else knows. There was more to it than just a collision of our creativity. Or our volatile emotions. Ariana found out about what was really in my home office. She found out about my past. And what I'd kept hidden in my basement all these years.
With our engagement, the pressure to tell her the truth finally broke me down. She knew I'd had problems in the past. She knew I didn't handle those other break ups too well... so finally, I just had to tell her the truth. I felt compelled.
And so I did, I told her everything. I told her how those last couple of break ups had emotionally drained me. And how empty I felt afterward. I told her how I'd lost the most important thing to me during those long months I spent alone and heartbroken: my creativity. I couldn't write shit. I was losing spots on SNL.
The loneliness ate me alive on the inside. Yeah, I smoked. I drank. But no one really wanted to chill with me. I felt isolated... and my anger only increased.
Through the tears, I told Ariana how I'd pick up strangers at bars and clubs. Men, women, it didn't matter. I'd bring them back to my office and kill them. I'd torture them. What creativity I'd lost in my writing, I'd rekindle here in my makeshift "torture chamber."
I had so many weapons. My mood helped me dictate what kind of slaughter I wanted to create. There were the nights I used tools (a hammer, a saw), there were nights I used those always reliable knives. And sometimes... well, fuck it, sometimes I got real creative and used whatever I laid my hungry eyes on (broken CDs, stapler... yeah, this was more messy but more fun).
No one could hear my victims scream. I lived out in the country after all. My home office was a fortress for my vicious focus. Soundproof walls, no windows. The long table just sturdy enough to hold up all the fit and skinny models (both male and female) I butchered.
I made sure my victims didn't recognize me either... I mean shit, I hardly had any fans as is, so why kill them? These were just airheads and meatheads. Dimbulb pretty people. The same ones who'd always criticized me for not being good enough for Ari. But fuck them, they were good enough to have me hack them to fucking pieces.
I'd kill them in my office and then bury them down in the basement. The set-up was perfect. No one ever knew. And no one suspected a thing. After all, how could they? Me, the awkward, goofy-looking comedian being a methodical and clever serial killer? They said I wasn't even good enough to be Ariana's fiancee much less be Patrick fucking Bateman!
Of course, in due time, I'd recover from these killing sprees. Like I always did. I'd stop the murders and get back in the groove within the confines of my home office. I'd get back to writing. Back to my prolific ways... of course, my creativity would only accelerate once I dated a new girl. Especially with Ari.
But at first, she didn't even believe my dark secrets. I had to dig up the bodies and show her what was left. The bones covered with tattered flesh. The decaying severed heads. The collection of items I'd kept in my office.
After all, I liked "trophies." I liked keeping track of my gruesome progress while also preserving the exciting memories. There was jewelry, wallets, keychains. I kept all of them in a large Ziploc storage bag... the bag weighed down by both the items and the gallons of my victims' blood. Keeping that bag made me feel like a proud mother with a scrapbook of her child's accomplishments. Just like my mom had done for me. Only my bag was a shrine to me being the badass. I wasn't just the awkward, unattractive boyfriend anymore. I was the fucking killer! And the bag proved it!
When I showed it to Ari in my office, she lost it right then and there. I tried pleading with her that she was safe. I never killed my exes and would never hurt the love of my life. Her confidence crumbled and she looked scared. Looking into my victims' dying eyes never made me feel as ravaged as looking into Ariana's terrified eyes at that moment.
Desperate, I tried to tell her I wouldn't kill again. Regardless of all the evil I'd done, I could control it! Just as long as she stayed with me. As long as she could compromise with me like I'd done with her so many times in the past. If she was curious or had a bloodlust (how amazing that would be!), I'd even bring her along on these trips. And then in my office, we'd kill together! We'd share the thrills and excitement. A sexy killer couple ripe for tabloid headlines and round-the-clock E! coverage.
But Ari couldn't handle it. She left me in tears. And I was left holding my goody bag in tears. I didn't chase after her. She knew I loved her. But ultimately, I can't blame Ariana for later ending our engagement and blocking my number and social media. A week later, she sent me my ring back. My worst fear had arrived. Ariana had left me. I'd scared away the woman I loved. And I had no one to blame but myself.
I wasn't mad at her. Not ever. My murders would be hard for anyone to accept. Much less a superstar with as pure a heart as Ari's. If she had no "dark side" or even a morbid curiosity, it'd only make sense she'd call off the wedding.
But I was still upset. I felt terrible about ruining our love. And the internet was fucking relentless. So were the talking heads on T.V. But Goddamn, the trolls and Ariana warriors were something else... they wanted to blame me. Keep on with the same he's not good enough for her, he's ugly, and he's not even funny. As much as I try to play it off, the comments hurt. Like constant stabs from a self-righteous crowd. From Ari's vigilantes. Jesus, it felt like I was in high school again. Alienated and bullied by all those who felt better than me.
Except now the insults hurt even worse considering these assholes had no idea how much I loved Ariana. And now they'll likely never know.
Sometimes, I wonder why Ari couldn't just try to understand me? She just wouldn't listen when I said I never killed when I was in a relationship. When I was happy. Much less when I was about to marry my dreamgirl! I can control these sinister urges. With Ariana, I was happy. I adored her. And together, we brought out the best in our creativity. We did the best work of our careers while in this relationship.
And now here I am back in the gutter. Back in my void of a writer's block. My creativity stifled. My drive more suppressed than the lovely man and woman now tied to my office table.
Here it is three A.M. I'm a few beers in on this lonely Friday night. In my office, my laptop screen is blank. My notebooks blank. I haven't written shit. And I won't for a few months at least.
Sweetener plays on my laptop. The ultra-catchy title track swirls all around me, overpowering the cries of the bound-and-gagged couple.
Wearing a plastic raincoat, I lean back in my chair. I close my eyes and enjoy the music. Relish Ariana's soulful voice. Like a drumstick, I tap the axe handle in my gloved hands.
Enjoying the memories the song provides, I pulled out an old scrapbook from the office shelf. The scrapbook I'd always kept on top of my goody bag.
Looking through the book, I stare at those pictures of me and Ariana with pride. Yeah, I know they're all clipped from newspapers and magazines... but she's still in them. And man, we look sexy together. She looks happy.
As I go further through the book, the photos get older. Like snapshots from my past. You see, this wasn't the first time I was engaged. There was that sweet romance I had back around 2016. Back when I was trying to be a rapper... I told you I've got a lot of hobbies, man. But like with Ariana, I got overshadowed by my first fiancee. She was fierce and strong... a lot like Ariana actually. I loved Nicki Minaj too. And when she found out my secret, well... she had the same reaction Ariana did. She left me. And after all that bliss, I went through months of torture. My only reprieve from the torture was murder. And trust me, I did a lot of that. All for Nicki, of course.
Jesus, me and Nicki looked so good in those pictures too. I was a lot tanner then. But I had serious talent as a rapper. My name Meek Mill was clever. I even had fans. But still, like when I was with Ariana, people always looked to shit on me, man. These talentless, dickless fucks were always criticizing me... Meek Mill ain’t shit Meek is lame. Goddamn, me and Nicki were happy. Nicki loved me. And I loved her.
The clipped photos were starting to yellow with age... but at least I had them preserved forever in this scrapbook. I had Nicki in my memories. The times we were happy. Not to mention, my goody bag had all the "collectibles" I'd taken from the victims she was partially responsible for.
Then I reached another relationship in my Rolodex of memories. This was around early 2016. Before Nicki and back when I was trying to be a DJ/techno genius under the guise Calvin Harris. Pretty lame phase I know. But one good thing did come out of it: I got to date Taylor Swift. Okay, maybe it wasn't as serious as what me and Nicki or me and Ariana had, but Taylor was cool. She had a quirky sense of humor like them.
However, I always got the vibe I loved her more than she loved me. And again, she was much more famous than me! Plus, way younger... so yeah. Even when I had written songs for Rihanna and Ellie Goulding, I was still fodder for Taylor's fan base and internet warriors.
And once she found out my secret. Well, you know how that goes. It set me off even worse when she ditched me in a fucking text message.
Again, all that happiness gave way to an inevitable fall. Those inevitable few months where I kill as many attractive people as possible. People who were so attractive like Taylor.
Man, even with the scrapbook's photos all crumpled and torn, I could still gaze into Taylor's pretty face all night. I could look at all my exes' pretty faces, honestly.
While there a few more relationships buried in the back of the book, I couldn't take any more. The memories were becoming painful. Everything'd gone from bittersweet to brutal so quickly. Like an endless loop of regrets.
Angry, I slammed the scrapbook shut. All around me, Ariana's voice haunted me. Just like my memories with her will forever torment me.
I understand why these women break up with me. I get it. I know I'm strange. Different. Maybe even creepy. And they have their own lives and careers to worry about. Especially when all of them are so damn talented. So much more talented than me. And according to the internet, so much more attractive than me.
In my solemn "fortress," I put the scrapbook back on the shelf. Right on top of my gruesome bag.
It’s weird how this cycle goes. I remember in 2007 after Britney Spears dumped me (Yeah, I was actually married at one point). At the time, I was fairly famous for doing boy band shit. But when I went to a hospital for depression and what people claimed was some sort of delusion disorder or psychosis (LOL), no one believed I was Kevin Federline. Crazy, man. Almost as crazy as the people who tell me I’m not Pete Davidson. But looking back, that break up with Britney was what got me on this... process. The rebound murders.
So now I'm back home in Stanwyck, Georgia. But at least tonight, I'm not alone.
I look over at the office table. The young man and woman keep straining under those tight ropes. But they're not going anywhere. They never do until it's time to drag the leftovers down into the basement.
I already took the guy's baseball cap and girl's bottle opener keychain for safekeeping. All that's left now is the fun part. The only question is who should I stab first and where should I sink this axe's brutal blade?
Honestly, I'm nervous. I haven't killed anyone in over five months. Not since me and Ariana started dating. Murder is like sex, you know. So much of it can be awkward and weird. But unfortunately for this cute couple, I'm a Hell of a lot better at killing than fucking. And with Ariana gone, my motivation is all murder at this point.
The young man and woman's helpless eyes look on at me. As if they sense my hesitancy. My awkwardness. They're like children with feet stuck in the railroad tracks. They're helpless. Oh so helpless.
For a moment there, I considered dropping the axe. Maybe if I let them go, they won't tell anyone. Maybe they really don't recognize me. After all, now that Ari dumped me, what was I famous for? SNL was already losing interest in my work. Not that I'd written jack shit since Ariana left anyway.
But then in the same way Ariana had always inspired me, I heard her voice call to me from the laptop. Her song for me. "pete davidson." However she felt now, Ariana loved me back then. I know she did. And that song always takes me back to that euphoria we both felt. To that place when we were both happy.
Tears sliding down my face, I smiled at my latest victims.
Ariana's soft voice serenaded me. She gave me the strength to carry on.
The man and woman looked confused. Confused and terrified. They stopped whimpering. As if my tears signified I had a change of heart in my murderous intentions.
But I didn't. With "pete davidson" serving as my heartfelt soundtrack, I stood up and pulled the axe back.
Instantly, the couple quivered beneath the ropes. Their horrified cries muffled by the duct tape. Their own tears flowed from their wide-open eyes. Ariana Grande the last voice they'd ever hear. My name the last song they'd ever hear.
And what a song it was. Ariana's voice reassured me like the comforting words of an empathetic mother. Even without Ari's love, this song would forever be my rallying cry.
Chuckling with joy, I hoisted the axe up high over the man's face. Thanks for the memories, Ari. This is for you.
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2018.08.23 21:56 Raven1906 Cousin's MIL and the rehearsal dinner

I have a lot of stories I could post about my own JNMIL and JNmom, I'm doubly blessed /s, but another post reminded me of a drama that happened in my family.
My cousin's MIL is a piece of work -- loud, abrasive, coddles her baby boy (who hasn't turned out to be much of a husband, but that's another story). When Cousin and her husband were planning their wedding a few years ago, they'd managed to keep her happy and things were going relatively smoothly. MIL had agreed to host and pay for the rehearsal dinner as her contribution to the wedding. And then the Great Invitation Fiasco happened.
Cousin and husband had a very traditional wedding, with the parents' names listed on the invitations. Husband's father had been out of the picture since he was a kid, so MIL was listed alone as the groom's parent. Then MIL got it in her head that her boyfriend's name should be on the invitation along with hers. Bear in mind this wasn't a Kurt Russell/Goldie Hawn kind of situation, he was just some random dude she happened to be dating. Nevertheless, she insisted his name should be on her son's wedding invitations. My aunt and uncle, who paid for the entire wedding, and Cousin were like "lol no." MIL threw a massive tantrum, threatened to boycott the wedding, standard JustNo behavior. Finally, they got her calmed down enough to move forward with the preparations and everything went off without a hitch.
Just kidding! A couple of weeks before the wedding, MIL decided she really was that offended by the invitation drama and punished Cousin and her family by washing her hands of the rehearsal dinner. Cousin and husband were in their very early 20s and had no money, and my aunt and uncle aren't wealthy and were at their limit paying for the wedding, and they were left at the last minute with no plans for a rehearsal dinner. My dad (who is his own brand of JN, but is all about faaaamily) ended up stepping in to pay for a small dinner at a burger place so Cousin and husband could host their bridal party and their families.
Unbelievably, the hosebeast MIL actually had the nerve to show up and sat eating burgers with everyone else, as though she hadn't left them hanging out to dry.

submitted by Raven1906 to JUSTNOMIL [link] [comments]


2018.08.07 23:00 autobuzzfeedbot 42 Facts About Celebrity Couples That'll Make You Believe In Love

  1. John Legend and Chrissy Teigen fell in love on a vacation to Lake Como in 2007. During the trip, a tour guide took them to a spot on the lake and told them to make a wish. Chrissy asked for John to be the man she marry and have children with. Six years later, they returned to the same spot for their wedding.
  2. Despite it becoming one of the most successful love songs of all time, "All of Me" was actually written by John Legend as a gift to Chrissy a month before their wedding. And, despite being known for her ~snarkiness,~ Chrissy cried when she heard it.
  3. David Beckham knew Victoria was his soulmate before he'd even met her. After seeing the Spice Girls' video for "Say You'll Be There," he pointed to Victoria and told his friend: "That girl there? That's the girl I'm going to marry."
  4. When they finally did meet in the Manchester United player's lounge, David plucked up the courage to ask for Victoria's number. She wrote it down on a London to Manchester plane ticket, and he's kept it to this day.
  5. Ryan Reynolds realised Blake Lively was ~The One~ while they were dancing together in a deserted restaurant.
  6. For Blake, it was the realisation that Ryan is her best friend — the first person she's ever been with who she "likes" as well as loves.
  7. But after Blake gave birth to their first baby, Ryan reached new levels of love for her. Speaking in 2015, he said: “I’m not one for declarations of sentiment across the airwaves, but when we had that baby, I fell more in love with my wife than I’d ever been in my entire life. I couldn’t believe it.”
  8. Blake and Ryan also show their love through the gifts they give each other. Blake once gave Ryan a book of short stories written by loved ones. And he once gifted her a video compilation of all the people who have had an impact on her life.
  9. Ellen DeGeneres and Portia De Rossi met backstage at an awards show, and for Portia it was love at first sight. “She took my breath away,” she later recalled. “That had never happened to me in my entire life, where I saw somebody and experienced all of those things you hear about in songs and read about in poetry.”
  10. When same-sex marriage was legalised four years after they began dating, the pair tied the knot. On their wedding day, Ellen described Portia as: "My anchor, my safety. I'm going to be with her until the day I die."
  11. In fact, Ellen still can't believe how lucky she is to have found Portia. Speaking shortly after they married in 2008, she said: "Sometimes I'll lie in bed at night before I go to sleep, and I just say thank you to whatever, whoever, is out there."
  12. And Portia showed the extent of her love for Ellen when, on her 60th birthday, she acknowledged her wife's dedication to wildlife and set up a campus in her name which would work to save gorillas in Rwanda.
  13. Adam Brody and Leighton Meester might be the '00s TV show pairing of dreams, but they're notoriously private. However, during a Reddit Q&A in 2015, Adam was asked: "How much do you love Leighton?" He answered: "Infinity."
  14. Justin Timberlake frequently finds himself gazing at Jessica Biel and thinking that marrying her was the best decision he'll ever make.
  15. Mila Kunis' first ever kiss was with her now husband, Ashton Kutcher, on That '70s Show. At the time, the pair were just friends and not romantically involved. 17 years later, however, Mila revealed there was something there from the start.
  16. But Mila and Ashton began their relationship as ~friends with benefits.~ Several months into the arrangement, however, Mila realised she was developing feelings for him and so called the whole thing off.
  17. The next day Ashton turned up at Mila's house at eight in the morning, and told her: "Let's move in together." At first, Mila protested that he wasn't ready for such commitment so soon after divorce but then he laid down his trump card and said: "I'm not going to lose you."
  18. Will and Jada Smith prefer the term "life partner" to "husband" or "wife," because they've reached a point where there are no deal breakers in their relationship.
  19. What's more, they even designed their house with a circular floor plan to symbolise their never ending love.
  20. And, this year, they'll have been together for more than half their lives.
  21. Neil Patrick Harris met David Burtka on the street in New York when he bumped into a friend who was hanging out with David. Neil described him as a “brooding James Dean type,” and admired him from afar for years until the relationship ended and the “stars aligned.”
  22. Two years into their relationship, the pair were on their way to an event in New York. David stopped the car and led Neil out onto the street. There, he got down on one knee and proposed. At first, Neil was confused. But then the penny dropped — they were in the exact same spot as when they first met.
  23. These days, the pair talk on the phone "at least eight times a day" and text "25 times a day."
  24. Michelle Obama once said that the key to her marriage lasting was being in a "true partnership" with Barack, in which they both respected each other equally.
  25. And he said that he'd come to learn how to be "thoughtful," and "introspective" so that every aspect of their relationship was equal.
  26. But ultimately for Barack, his love for Michelle can be summed up succinctly: "She is my rock. And I count on her in so many ways, every single day."
  27. Ricky Martin and his husband Jwan Yosef both had exactly the same thought when they first met each other: “I’m marrying this guy.”
  28. Meryl Streep and Don Gummer first met in 1978 after her partner, John Cazale, died of bone cancer. She was invited to move into the empty apartment of her brother’s friend Don, who was away travelling. When he returned, she ended up staying and then getting married. Four children and 40 years of marriage later, the pair are more in love than ever.
  29. Oprah Winfrey and her partner Stedman Graham have been together for 32 years, and the talk show host maintains their relationship has lasted because he supports her rather than being intimidated by her.
  30. When she has to spend time away from Stedman for work, Oprah keeps an iPad filled with things he says to her for motivation.
  31. And her pet name for him is "Honey Graham."
  32. If it weren't for Orange is the New Black, Samira Wiley and Lauren Morelli may never have got together.
  33. When Samira found out that Lauren was married, it was "like a little dagger in my heart," but she vowed to keep their relationship platonic out of a desire to "do the right thing."
  34. After telling her husband how she felt, Lauren spent a year trying to mend her marriage and going through couples' therapy. She had few other gay female friends, and so confided in Samira, and in doing so, fell in love.
  35. Once her marriage had officially ended, Lauren invited Samira to her new home. There, she gave her a ring which Samira now wears around her neck, and a card that said: "Will you be my girlfriend?" Three years later, they tied the knot.
  36. Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell may have been together for 35 years, but they've never felt the need to walk down the aisle. Instead, Goldie says a successful, lasting relationship isn't about marriage but "compatibility and communication. You both need to want it to work."
  37. Kristen Bell and Dax Shepard make no secret of the fact that marriage is hard work — but she likens the emotional labour to building a toolbox.
  38. But that's not to say they're not fans of the odd romantic gesture.
  39. John Krasinski was such a huge fan of Emily Blunt before they'd even met, that he'd watched The Devil Wears Prada over 75 times.
  40. And the feeling clearly came to be mutual when they did meet. According to Emily, she fell in love with "disarmingly fast" the moment she first saw him in a restaurant. Within 10 months they were engaged.
  41. Emily has credited much of her success to John's fervent belief in and support of her, which makes her feel "invincible."
  42. And, finally, John recently revealed that the "best days" of his life only started when he met Emily.
Link to article
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2018.06.27 21:36 pizzadreams420 Actresses I'd like to see in future seasons of "American Horror Story"

I know this has been done a million times over, especially before a new season is about to start, so I'll keep the tradition going.
Here is a list of some actresses I'd love to see as new vixens of AHS:
Milla Jovovich (Villain) : The Queen of Sci-Fi, one of the biggest female action stars in the world, and a die-hard fan of AHS (her words not mine). It would be very interesting to see Milla take on AHS one day. We've seen her play the heroine in almost every film she's in, but it would be awesome to see her play a villain! Just imagine Milla Jovovich and Sarah Paulson, two of the biggest sci-fi/horror vixens out there, going at it in some badass, epic catfight.
Famke Jansenn (Villain or Protagonist) : Famke is an absolute underrated Hollywood treasure with range that's out of this world. Mostly known for indie projects, her most infamous characters are typically a conflicted anti-hero, namely as Jean Grey/The Dark Pheonix from the original X-Men trilogy. But perhaps her most infamous role was the cunning and villainous Olivia Godfrey in Netflix's first original Horror series "Hemlock Grove", which (unfortunately) only lasted 3 seasons. Side note: if you haven't watched this show, do yourself a favor and get on that shit. It's True Blood meets AHS meets Twin Peaks. Her portrayal as Olivia was flawed, campy, and downright evil as fuck. The perfect character for something along the likes of "American Horror Story". I have no doubt that Famke would fit right in with the show.
Jennifer Tilly (Villain, duh) : I really don't need to explain who she is and what roles she is famous for. Jennifer has been an internet fan favorite pick for AHS since the beginning. If you don't know about her, you should probably learn. Her role as Tiffany in the first 30 minutes of Bride of Chucky explains it all.
Sheri Moon Zombie (Villain or Protagonist) : Yes, I know, the woman who is married to Rob Zombie and stars in all of his films. Well let me just start out by saying that Sheri has grown and improved as an actress in the last 10 years, ESPECIALLY with her role as Heidi Hawthrone in "The Lords of Salem" one of Zombies best films to date. I'm not saying she is a great actress by any means. But her portrayal of both sadistic and victimized characters throughout the years has proven that she can take on such roles in a show like AHS. Plus I can't help but be drawn to her screen presence. She's almost like a modern day Goldie Hawn mixed with a little Sissy Spacek. I'd be more than open to see her stretch her wings in a role outside of being her husbands muse.
Reese Witherspoon (VILLAIN) : Ah yes, Hollywood's sweetheart. I don't know a single person who doesn't like at least one film starring Ms Witherspoon. I'm a sucker for the bitch in anything she does, good or bad. Ryan Murphy even said it would be a dream come true to work with Reese. In fact, he even tried to get her on Asylum and Coven, but she was busy with other projects at the time. Reese is also fan of AHS and mentioned herself that she would love to play in the show (but that was back in 2013) Considering the success she has had with her new show, I think after BLL ends it would the absolute best time to get her on board. But not just any role... She HAS to play a villain. Reese is mostly known for her sweetheart, damsel in distress characters. And Ryan loves to cast actors in parts they have never done before. Reese has, from my knowledge, never played an antagonistic character before. I can easily imagine her taking on the HBIC mantle, even using a comedic approach a la Jessica Lange as Constance. If anyone should resume such a role on the series, Reese would take the crown jewel.
Beyonce Knowles (Villain, Bitch) : Yes, another "Wtf??!?" moment for my list of fantasy vixens of AHS. But think about it. Ryan is quite vocal about his love for Beyonce and even went as far as to put several references of the famous singer on the show. He's worked with her good friend Lady Gaga. They HAVE talked, and even shared during an interview that her favorite seasons were "Coven" and "Hotel" (because, well Gaga is her home girl) What I like about Beyonce is that she isn't the best actress, but has somewhat of a good enough range to take on a project like AHS. And that is the beauty of the show. We literally saw Gaga in her FIRST leading role on AHS and Ryan allowing her to have artistic control of her character we progessively see her got better towards the end. Beyonce is an experienced actress in comparison, so why the hell not? Beyonce hasn't done any acting in years not to mention that, according to Queen Bey herself, after her tour with JayZ she plans on "taking an extended break from music to focus on her acting career for a FEW years" because she reallllly wants an Emmy or an Oscar. BITCH. LET'S. GO.
That's my list. What's yours?
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2017.05.12 22:00 macbrazel What do you think of blindface in media?

Hi blind! I am wondering what your thoughts are on blindface, the practice of sighted actors and other performers playing blind people in media: in film, TV, and onstage.
-context-
I am an actor, currently working on a production of the play Butterflies Are Free by Leonard Gersche. The play was written in 1969 and had a film adaptation in 1972 starring Goldie Hawn. The script is somewhat dated, but I am also coming to realize it employs some stereotypes about blind culture that may not be at all authentic. I would love to hear any and all thoughts about sighted actors playing blind in general, and any criticisms or comments about the piece in particular if you are familiar with it. Thank you for reading!
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2017.04.22 23:26 AutoNewspaperAdmin [Entertainment] - Kurt Russell And Goldie Hawn's First Date Was Interrupted By Police Huffington Post

[Entertainment] - Kurt Russell And Goldie Hawn's First Date Was Interrupted By Police Huffington Post submitted by AutoNewspaperAdmin to AutoNewspaper [link] [comments]