This is 'lost a bet'-level work for Spacey.

Cetera does it all for the glory of love, not personal recognition.

Sasha Banks' real name looks like one of those Celebrity Name Jumbles they play before the movie starts.

I wonder if this will help or hurt the show. I always thought half the fun of Xena was the show constantly winking at its fan base while never quite tipping its hand. It was sort of like a meta version of sexual tension between the leads, but once you actually cash in, the magic sorta fizzles.

Oh, I get it. The song is synced to moments from the show which sort of match the lyrics.

I saw an ad for this before Star Wars and immediately thought it was a Mr. Show sketch, and then I remembered they did that bit already. Shoes hurt, frozen peas, etc.

I dunno; dude must have a monster package seeing as how many people here are riding that shit.

He's an MC. His lyrics are an integral to his art, and I find him to be an ugly human being with an often-ugly message. Fine, he can be a great producer. I would personally prefer to give my heart and money to people that aren't megalomaniac chucklefucks. Let this dude masturbate to himself on someone else's dime,…

There's nothing more shameful than taking someone's delusional misogyny, repeating it word for word, and then using that as an example that maybe that person might be a sack of shit.

I think the timing was awful. They were having a big moment for a beloved performer whose terrible injuries were forcing him into an early retirement, and Titus is just fucking around like they're in the locker room. No sense of decorum, even by wrestling standards.

The problem with Stephanie is the same as it always is: there's no real possible comeuppance, since since men can't lay a glove on women in the PG era. So she can run around burying dudes and smacking the shit out of them, and they just have to shrug and take it because them's the rules. All of this would be…

I have to agree. I guess what I really miss is spoof movies that offered timeless, silly slapstick mixed with genuine wit, as opposed to a parade of lazy pop-culture references that have already expired by the time the movie limps into theaters.

Now I just miss Leslie Nielsen.

R.I.P. Abe Vigoda

I'm rooting for Terry strictly on the arbitrary basis that he looks like a milquetoast version of WWE star Kevin Owens.

Half the fun of this special is admiring the guests and seeing which one of them appears to be the highest. You'd think Willie Nelson would be a shoo-in, but both Feist and John Legend look 1,000 miles away.

Downwell is so damn good. Only three bucks and such a strong game.

The game that kept me alive during the depths of (undiagnosed at the time) clinical depression was Super Monkey Ball 2 of all things, back in the GameCube era. It was the one thing I could focus on and get out of bed for, and the bright colors and catchy music buoyed me just enough.

The fact that this dumpster fire of a company is still profitable enough to run is a stirring testament to how much people love professional wrestling.

Ah, the magic of Hollywood! A dream factory that brings people's most heartfelt stories to the screen.