Posted on January 2, 2018
One of the most iconic characters from “The Lord of The Rings” (LOTR) is Gollum, or Sméagol, everyone’s favorite ring-hungry, Hobbit-hating, fish-eating creature who would die happy if he could just have his “precious.”
Some of the things that make the former Hobbit so great are his distinct voice, bizarre mannerisms and split personality — all of which make for seriously entertaining impressions. That’s why we all get such a kick out of people who impersonate him for non-LOTR purposes. Take Ian James Walters, who loves singing popular songs as Gollum. A few years back, he decided to record mock auditions for a number of classic films while embodying the creepy character. The resulting video was priceless.
Watch below as Gollum tries his hand at landing major roles for movies we all know and love.
He may not have gotten any callbacks, but I’m sure the real Gollum would be proud. Be sure to check out more of Walters’ hilarious impersonations on YouTube.
Read more: http://www.viralnova.com/gollum-auditions/
Posted on December 26, 2017
Walt Disney’s agreement to buy most of 21st Century Fox’s business for $52.4bn (£39bn) has raised further questions about the Sky News channel’s future.
Before news of the deal, Rupert Murdoch’s Fox had been trying to buy the 61% of satellite broadcaster Sky that it does not yet own.
That attempt attracted the scrutiny of the Competition and Markets Authority (CMA), which is investigating it.
But of all the channels that Sky has in its portfolio, including sports and movies, it is the ownership of its news channel that raises the most difficulties.
Last month, Sky sent shivers down the spines of Sky News journalists by threatening to close the channel if it proved to be an obstacle in Mr Murdoch’s takeover bid.
Now it seems that Sky News could fall into Disney’s hands as a result of this latest piece of corporate wheeler-dealing.
After all, Fox’s efforts to take over Sky become less politically sensitive if the Murdoch family’s existing 39% stake in Sky has been sold to Disney, making it more likely that the takeover will go ahead.
So now the question is: will Disney want to keep pumping money into a loss-making news channel that serves only the relatively small UK market?
Claire Enders, founder of research firm Enders Analysis, points out that we may not know the answer to that for another 18 months, since the Disney-Fox deal will itself have to clear regulatory hurdles and is likely to come under close scrutiny from EU competition authorities.
However, she is sceptical about Sky News’s ultimate fate.
She told the BBC: “Inherently, Disney is not a company that engages in political investment. It runs businesses that make profits and that’s one of the reasons why it’s thought of as one of the best companies in the world.
“Sky News loses £40m a year and has absorbed $1bn of investment. It’s very hard to make money out of news in a small market like the UK.”
Former ITN chief executive Stewart Purvis, who is also a former senior executive at regulator Ofcom, is less pessimistic about the channel’s future.
He points out that there are a number of issues to consider, including the possibility that Disney might not wish to go ahead with acquiring the remaining 61% of Sky, even if the CMA approved it.
In fact, the UK’s Takeover Panel says Disney has told it that if Mr Murdoch fails to buy the rest of Sky before the Fox takeover deal goes through, it will not feel obliged to make a full bid for the satellite broadcaster.
Mr Purvis adds that it would be “slightly perverse” if Sky News were closed down over concerns that the various deals would lead to an unreasonable concentration of media power, because its absence “would actually reduce media plurality”.
After all, the outcome would be to leave the BBC News channel unchallenged as the only dedicated UK television news service.
However, he adds: “I’ve never found Disney to be very interested in news. It’s an entertainment company and maybe being in news is more trouble than it’s worth.”
Disney owns the ABC television network in the US, which includes its news service.
But as Mr Purvis says, ABC News is safe because it makes money.
“The way that networks look at their news programmes is that they look at the cost compared with advertising revenues within those programmes,” he says.
“By that measure, ABC News is profitable. Good Morning America is the leading breakfast programme in the US. There’s no way Disney would shut that down.”
Sky News, of course, does not enjoy that kind of status. But Mr Purvis says Disney would have to balance that against other factors, including the “political kudos” that owning Sky News would give it in the UK.
“We don’t know the outcome of that kind of consideration,” he says.
In the US, analysts are concerned that Disney’s existing news interests might suffer from the merger, let alone Sky News.
“I would not look to the Disney-Fox merger to bolster the fourth estate,” Ben Gomes-Casseres of the Brandeis International Business School told the Washington Post.
“Whether ABC News will be affected in this way, as a side-effect, is also anyone’s guess, but there is no doubt that ABC as a TV channel will decrease in importance in the Disney group.”
For the moment, Disney is taking a positive attitude towards Sky News.
Disney chairman and chief executive Bob Iger was asked on Bloomberg TV whether the channel had a future after his company completed the Fox deal.
He replied: “Absolutely. All of Sky has a future.”
Cynics might reply that at this stage in the proceedings, he could hardly say he was going to close the channel. But if he does so once the deal has gone through, he may find that his assurance will come back to haunt him.
Read more: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-42370822
Posted on December 19, 2017
One of Timm Woods’ most precious possessions looks like something you’d find in the basement of a derelict castle, or maybe at a back-of-the-mall magic shop: It’s a notebook bound in leatherlike skin, covered with an upside-down, faux-gold keyhole and filled with handwritten, eraser-dusted passages featuring titles like “Ravenloft” and “Attack on Myth Drannor.”
Before he goes to work, Woods might spend an hour or more consulting the book, poring over its various charts and calculations, readying himself for another night as one of New York City’s leading for-hire Dungeons & Dragons dungeon master, or DM. “The book is how I psych myself up,” he says. “I tried to make it look like what you’d imagine is going on inside a DM's head. And if somebody finds it, it’ll be very clear that it’s something I care a great deal about.”
Tonight, a cool Friday in August, the book rests on a cluttered table in Woods’ Brooklyn apartment, not far from an assortment of gaming figurines and a half-demolished bag of Oreo Mega Stuf cookies. The five players gathered around Woods—including a teacher, a fashion-company copywriter, a corporate car-service dispatcher, and a publishing-house editorial assistant—have spent the evening progressing through a D&D campaign mega-stuffed with skirmishes and creatures, including Valkyries and a plant monster known as a Tree Blight. As the three-hour session nears its climax, the team members find themselves facing down a tower on wheels that’s rolling their way, filled with skeletal beasties called Gnolls.
Clearly, it’s time to send in the giant dinosaurs.
“All you need to roll for the ankylosaurus to hit the wheels is a measly 12,” Woods says. There’s a scattered chop-clunk as the die hit the table; soon a 12 comes up, and the dinosaurs are attacking with their whiplike tails. “Wha-chee!” Woods riffs in a playful falsetto. “You’re going to hamstring these towers.”
Woods, a 30-year-old with neatly floppy hair, is dressed tonight in a black button-down shirt and jeans. His DM performances—and being a dungeon master is a kind of performance—are often marked by excitable narration and winkingly melodramatic theatrics; at one point during tonight’s game, he gleefully pounds a hand into a fist, mimicking an arrow’s impact on an opponent.
He’s spent nearly three months preparing for this showdown, even hand-building a few model towers out of scrap wood and dowels. It’s one of the most elaborate adventures he’s crafted in his four-year career as a professional DM at schools and homes in Manhattan and Brooklyn. Sometimes, like tonight, the games are run in his apartment, where the bookshelves reach high with graphic novels and board games, and where the walls are decorated with full-color maps from D&D classics like Greyhawk and Isle of Dread.
Woods discovered the world of role-playing games, or RPGs, when he was about 10 years old, after finding a free Dungeons & Dragons demo game online. He cast himself as the DM, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what that entailed. He soon realized that the DM could function as a sort of semi-benevolent story-deity—the one who ignites the adventures, emcees the action, and ultimately oversees a fantasy world where new thrills or terrors can be unearthed with a roll of the die. After a few rounds, “I realized, ‘Oh, shit. You can do anything with this,’ ” Woods says.
He was hardly the first to have that realization. First introduced in 1974, Dungeons & Dragons soon become standard-issue equipment for geeks everywhere—not that they had a monopoly on the game. In its Reagan-era heyday, D&D was like convenience-store Schnapps or Jim Morrison lyrics: Everyone indulged at least once, usually late on a weekend night, and either become an instant devotee or spent the rest of their lives denying it ever happened.
Now, though, D&D is in the midst of a striking comeback. In 1999, Hasbro purchased Wizards of the Coast, which itself had acquired the rights to the game in 1997*, giving D&D's marketing and distribution a major proficiency bonus. Yet the game has also been around long enough to become a multi-generational pursuit. In recent years, older players have begun dusting off their Starter Sets, while curious younglings who’ve endured marathon binges of Stranger Things or Minecraft (or who caught 2011’s infamous D&D-centric episode of Community) were inspired to seek out the game that all but redefined how a collaborative, hands-on narrative could work. “People are either rediscovering or discovering for the first time how wonderful the experience is to create a story with people together at the table,” says Matthew Mercer, a voice actor and D&D whiz who serves as DM on Geek & Sundry’s Critical Role series on Twitch. “We’d kind of moved away from that, thanks to digital media and videogames. But now there’s a resurgence and appreciation for a more personal experience.”
Which is one of the reasons Woods is so busy these days. He’s currently overseeing nine games a week, all of them focusing on either Dungeons & Dragons, or the kid-friendlier, D&D-influenced game Dungeon World. His clientele is made up of an assortment of armchair-adventuring adults, students, and families (including one with a few Oscar wins, though he’d prefer to keep their identity a secret). He’s spent the past few years doing all of this while also working to earn an RPG-related doctorate (his dissertation title: “Anything Can Be Attempted: Table-Top Role Playing Games as Learning and Pedagogy”).
For the generation of kids who were raised on D&D in the ’70s and ’80s, finding a good DM often meant asking around the neighborhood cul-de-sac, hoping someone you knew had a wild imagination, an appreciation for swordplay, and a halfway-decent head for math. Decades later, the growth of RPG games, as well as the task-rabid demands of the online gig economy, make it much easier for players to bring in someone like Woods, who will show up at your place, notebook in hand, ready to start your campaign.
But while Woods is one of several DMs-for-hire out there, this isn’t his hobby or a side gig; it’s a living, and a pretty good one at that, with Woods charging anywhere from $250 to $350 for a one-off three-hour session (though he works on a sliding scale). For that price, Woods will not only research and plan out your game but also, if you become a regular, answer your occasional random text queries about wizard spells. “He’s worth the money,” says Kevin Papa, a New York City educator (and occasional DM) who’s been part of this Friday-night game for more than a year. “Being a DM requires a lot of brainshare. I don’t know how Timm absorbs it all.”
As it turns out, the very attributes that help form the core of every Dungeons & Dragons character—strength, constitution, dexterity, intelligence, wisdom, and charisma—are the same ones needed to be a stellar Dungeon Master. Woods describes himself as “100 percent an introvert,” but the kind of introvert who doesn’t mind being the center of attention under the right circumstances. Which explains why he has been known to crack jokes in an elf’s voice or dramatically narrate castle-yard battles with cacophonous verve. When he was younger, Woods preferred to be alone, living inside his imaginary worlds; now he has a job in which, night after night, he must share those worlds with others. “Being a DM is very intimate,” he says. “In many ways, the people who watch me run a game have a more authentic sense of what's going on in my head than many other people in my life.”
Woods grew up in New Hyde Park, Long Island, a suburb about 15 miles east of Manhattan. Like a lot of other intensely smart kids, he was drawn to fiction, especially the works of Lord of the Rings creator J. R. R. Tolkien. For a while, he thought about becoming a fantasy writer himself. “He’d always been interested in telling stories, and he always had a really vivid imagination,” his older brother, Brendan, says. The siblings discovered D&D together—they have long-running games to this day—and even in their earliest sessions it was clear to Brendan that his brother was best suited to play the role of DM. “It gave him a framework to build on: ‘Hey, here’s this guideline, but make it your own.’ And he liked the idea of having control over the story.”
But, as is also often the case with the intensely smart, Timm Woods preferred to go solo, spending hours designing D&D games, memorizing the famous conflicts and campaigns, poring over articles in Dungeon magazine, and learning hundreds of character names and powers. All that work was necessary for him to master a game that, for many, can be offputtingly complex. The bare-bones setup of D&D seems at least semi-easy enough: You create a character using a series of predetermined traits and skills, and then set off on a DM-guided and -designed adventure in which the outcome of each new interaction, from battles to conversations, is determined by multiple rolls of the dice. (There are seven different dies, from four-sided to 20-sided.)
Players work together—be they dwarf, elf, halfing, or human—and the DM serves as a sort of all-powerful cheerleader-slash-enabler. But the amount of institutional knowledge required to keep a game running smoothly is voluminous, as evidenced by the players' version of “Basic Rules for Dungeons & Dragons,”, which runs more than 80,000 words and includes such subheadings as “Gods of the Multiverse” and “Ability Scores & Modifiers.” It’s not unusual for a group of rookie D&D players to spend their first night staring at a manual, lost in orc-induced confusion.
As a kid, Woods spent more time thinking about D&D than actually playing with others. This was partly because he didn’t feel comfortable approaching his peers about D&D. “I would do all the DMing craft, but I used to get almost depressed: ‘What’s it all for? I’m never even in the remote future actually gonna run games like this, because no one’s gonna play with me.’ ”
By the time he was in his teens, Woods was attending an all-boys high school that required each student to give a speech every semester—something Woods dreaded. So he responded by coming up with the most ridiculously showy presentations possible, at one point jumping up on a teacher’s desk while reenacting the iconic Gollum-Sméagol speech from The Lord of the Rings. “It was my way of getting a reputation as a class clown,” he says. “I was putting on a very self-conscious performance to make sure people would like me.”
This was in the early ’00s, by which point Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings film adaptations had helped that series evolve from back-of-the-classroom classic to pop-culture-conquering sacred text. The success of those films—as well as a new wave of superhero movies, Star Wars stories, and lore-locked games like Magic: The Gathering—proved that nerdiness was now (and had perhaps always been) a wide-scale epidemic, and a joyous one at that.
It was only a matter of time before Dungeons & Dragons became part of that reappraisal-slash-reawakening. Woods noticed it happening around 2009, when he was studying writing and English at Loyola University in Maryland. By then he’d begun playing again regularly and saw that some of the people who would have once made fun of D&D were suddenly curious about it. At a time when it’s possible to mount a months-long Words With Friends battle on your phone—or play a days-long videogame with someone who’s not even in the same country, let alone the same room—RPGs are a sort of analog anomaly: They require you to put down your devices, pick up the die, and create a sort of IRL group magic.
After watching Woods DM one particularly intense session, a friend’s roommate approached him, wide-eyed. “He watched the whole game, and afterward he came up to me and said, ‘How do you do that?’ That’s when I realized that the people who’d always had a problem playing the game—the people who said, ‘In a million years, I could never do this’—could be my future customers.”
When Woods runs a game, his style is part dorm-room hangout and part one-man show. “I need to be cracking jokes,” he says. “I need to be acting as though we’re just a group of friends playing D&D, because that’s the experience everybody wants.” During the sessions, it’s not unusual for him to rise from his seat to readjust some figurines or plot out a distance on the map, only to remain standing for the next few turns, regaling players with details on the latest grotesque creature or mystic weapon. His voice rises giddily whenever someone comes up with a novel way to vanquish a foe, breaking into the occasional Oooooh! or Yess! Here, for example, is how he narrates the action after a wizard named Victor shoots a magic missile at a demonic hyena-like creature called a Shoosuva:
The Shoosuva starts flailing about a little bit, then gets back up, sits back down, and … AA-BOOM! It hits the ground for good, and its eyes slowly start to shut. Victor is very excited, and he says “ ‘Demonslayer’: I’m putting it on the résumé.”
It’s a highly entertaining way to spend three hours, especially if someone brings pizza. (Full disclosure: I met Woods last year, when I joined one of his D&D games; I had to drop out for scheduling reasons, meaning the further adventures of one Gnome Peterson remain temporarily on hold).
There were no beginner’s guides to being a for-hire, for-profit dungeon master when Woods started his career, four years ago. Back then he was working at Forbidden Planet NYC, a famed Manhattan comic book and collectibles store, where he was helping sell RPG merchandise. “Once a day, someone would come in and say, ‘D&D? I’ve always wanted to play that, but I don’t have a friend who will teach it to me.’” Inspired, Woods printed up business cards (“Timm Woods: Professional Game Mastery”), and within a week or so a frazzled parent approached him at work, asking if he knew someone who could run a game for her son and his friends. “That was my first gig: An 11-year-old’s D&D-themed birthday party,” Woods says.
He still shows up once a year for that game, but for the most part those early days “were a mess,” he says. “I did not have any clients.” To make things worse, he found out he had competition. One day in the store, Woods heard about another NYC-based dungeon master—one so successful that he’d supposedly been flown out to California to run a game for a group of lawyers. “I thought, through gritted teeth, ‘Really? That's great,’ ” he says. “I was so jealous.”
There was another, more unexpected obstacle: When Woods would mention his new job online, he’d often get harangued by other D&D players who were put off by the very notion of for-profit DMing. “They seem to view it as akin to someone sitting down to play Magic and saying, ‘I'm so good, you’ve gotta give me $20 if you even want to play with me.’ I’d make the argument that paid DMing helps the hobby at large by bringing people into the game.”
Mercer, the Geek & Sundry host, says there's a respectable place for professional dungeon masters like Woods. “There's an old-school gatekeeper mentality to some of the RPG community: ‘It's unfair that somebody out there can make money on something that I worked so hard to make for free for my friends.’" he says. "But Timm's able to make a living doing something he loves, and gets to bring joy to people who are excited to spend some of their disposable income for this experience.”
Woods did his best to ignore the trolls and kept his business cards handy. After several months of hustle, he picked up more clients. Many of them were kids—parties and after-school sessions being a staple of the for-hire DM economy—but each birthday or one-off adult game allowed him to hone his skills. An eight-hour session in Connecticut, for example, taught him that he needed to impose some time limits. “When you run a game for that long, you’re invariably straying off the map,” he says. And he realized the differences between kid players and their adult counterparts. “The kids will be very honest with each other,” he says. “They’ll say something like, ‘Well, if you do that, I’m just gonna kill your character. And I know it’s gonna ruin the game, but I’ll ruin the game. Watch me.’ With the adult groups, everybody knows that they’re there to have fun.”
Woods also learned, over the years, how to balance his DM duties with the expectations of the players. It’s a tricky dynamic: The people at the table are paying him to have a good time, but it’s hard to get repeat business if your customers are constantly in danger of being torn up by hyena-demons—or even if they’re simply nonplussed at their last few turns.
Papa remembers a game in which his character was up against a squad of hungry monsters, yet Woods eventually steered them away before they could finish Papa off. “It didn’t make sense, and I think it comes from an attitude of, ‘Well, he’s paying money, so I don’t want to upset him.’ But I’m a realistic kind of guy, and I couldn’t care less if my character dies. And the great thing about Timm is that if there’s something that’s not working, you can email or call him and be like, ‘Can we maybe change something?’ It’s more fun for us, and it helps him grow.”
“I’ve had people say they want me to be harsher as a DM, and I don’t always take that advice,” Woods says. “If I’m too much of a hardass, then they’re really gonna start questioning what they are paying me for.” So he adapts the game's difficulty levels to his players' wishes and skill levels. And while it is possible to be revived in D&D, it can slow the game down. In D&D, Woods says, "death and unconsciousness are relatively boring."
Yet there’s another reason Woods might want to keep everyone at the table happy. When he was younger, Woods couldn’t find enough people to play with him, and wasn’t even sure how to find them; now he has enough D&D pals to fill out that ridiculously detailed notebook of his. “Before I start a game, I think, ‘I am not their friend, I am their Dungeon Master,’ ” he says. “And then, within 30 seconds of me walking in and someone saying, ‘Hey, Timm!’ I’m already like, ‘Oh, fuck it, I love these people.’”
One weekend early last month, Woods was standing in Manhattan’s jumbo-sized Javits Center. He’d bought a last-minute pass for the New York Comic Con—“a sea of introverts,” he says—where he was hoping to check out some booths and, if he got the chance, plug his DM business. While walking the floor, he was distracted by the sight of a giant dragon that had been equipped with a saddle. Earlier in the day, visitors had been able to pose for photos atop the beast, but by the time Woods arrived the dragon was closed.
“And I say out loud, ‘Are you kidding me? I wanna ride on a friggin’ dragon!’ ” Woods recalls. “And this guy who had been standing next to me starts talking to me about it, and I just jumped wholeheartedly into this conversation with him, in a way that I couldn’t have in high school or college. The thing that would have made me hesitate back then is dead now. I’ve murdered it through hours and hours of D&D.”
A few weeks before the con, Woods finished his dissertation—the latest, most seemingly grown-up victory in a decades-long campaign he’d begun when he was barely a teen. He was soon to be Dr. Woods, but he wasn’t yet ready to leave D&D for the far dicier world of academia. “This all started as me trying to figure out how I could get paid to run these games and survive on it,” he says. The plan, for now, is to keep adding more games, keep finding more clients, maybe even get some corporate gigs. To help his clients undertake their next battle-scarring campaigns, even if a few of them die along the way. To keep riding the friggin’ dragon as far and high as it’ll go.
*This article has been updated to correct an error. Wizards of the Coast did not create Dungeons & Dragons.
Posted on December 12, 2017
In a major win for the telecom industry, Federal Communications Commission Chairman Ajit Pai announced plans Tuesday to scrap net neutrality regulations that require internet providers to treat all content equally.
If all goes as Pai plans, the FCC will meet and vote on the repeal on Dec. 14. It’s expected to pass 3-2, along party lines.
The move, long sought by internet providers like AT&T, Comcast and Verizon (which owns Oath, HuffPost’s parent company), would give the already monopolistic companies even more power over how its customers access content online.
Under the new plan, for instance, Comcast could theoretically throttle or block access to content it doesn’t like, or it could incentivize other content by offering it for free or at faster speeds. Netflix, for example, which competes directly with Comcast’s cable TV offerings, could see itself on the losing end of the new rules.
Netflix joined with tech giants like Google parent company Alphabet, Facebook and hundreds of other websites earlier this year to protest Pai’s plan and encourage members of the public to submit their comments to the FCC.
According to an analysis by the data analytics company Gravwell, more than 80 percent of the comments were sent by bots. The remaining 17.4 percent that were found to be authentic were “overwhelmingly in support of net neutrality regulations.”
In an interview with The Washington Post Tuesday, former FCC Chairman Tom Wheeler called his successor’s actions “tragic.”
“The job of the FCC is to represent the consumer,” he explained. “If you like your cable company, you’ll love what this does for the Internet, because it gives Internet service providers the same kind of control over content and price as cable operators have today.”
If you like your cable company, you’ll love what this does for the Internet.
“Since its formation, we’ve seen a free and open internet grow our economy and our imaginations,” U.S. Senator Brian Schatz (D-Hawaii), Ranking Member of the Senate Subcommittee on Communications, Technology, Innovation, and the Internet, said in a statement Tuesday.
“But today the FCC has threatened to end the internet as we know it,” he continued. “If adopted, the FCC’s plan will change the way every American gets information, watches movies, listens to music, conducts business, and talks to their families. By repealing basic net neutrality protections, the FCC is handing over full control of the internet to providers, leaving the American people with fewer choices and less access.”
Twitter on Tuesday said it strongly opposed the FCC’s plans. ”[We will] continue the fight for an open Internet, which is indispensable to free expression, consumer choice and innovation,” the social media company said.
Proponents of the FCC rollback argue the current rules, which classify internet access as a utility on par with electricity and phone access, hinder investment and innovation.
Daniel Lyons, a Boston College Law School associate professor and fellow at the American Enterprise Institute’s Center for Internet, Communications, and Technology Policy, told HuffPost in an email he thinks the average consumer is unlikely to notice any difference in the short term.
(While AEI doesn’t take institutional policy positions, it has long opposed net neutrality.)
“Net neutrality is much more a battle between broadband companies and Internet content providers (like Netflix and YouTube) about who pays whom for Internet traffic,” he said. “We have to leave room for innovation and experimentation in the Internet ecosystem, and my sense is that deregulation is more likely to promote that.”
Posted on November 7, 2017
As BBC Radio 1 celebrated some of the country’s most exceptional young people at Sunday’s Teen Awards, we asked the stars on the red carpet what their own teenage years had been like.
Their stories weren’t quite as inspirational as this year’s winners – who have influenced government policy on foster care and set up a charity for young people looking after parents with mental illness, among other achievements.
But the stars’ stories certainly illustrate that the turmoil and trauma of teen-hood is common to us all.
So which pop star got expelled from school? And who used to work in a sweet factory? Read on to find out…
What sort of teenager were you?
I wasn’t grumpy, I was quite chilled. Just trying to get school over with as quickly as possible.
Did you ever call a teacher “mum”?
No. No, that’s weird.
How did you celebrate your last ever day of school?
Me and all of my mates, scribbling on our T-shirts, then going out and getting drunk.
Acne: Squeeze it or leave it?
I squeeze it. You have to.
LOVE ISLAND WINNERS KEM AND AMBER
What are your teenage horror stories?
Amber: Probably getting told off in school for wearing too much make-up.
Kem: I never had a girlfriend. That was my horror story.
What was the soundtrack to your teenage years?
Kem: High School Musical! I can’t help it, I know all the lyrics. The limited edition ones and everything.
Amber: It’s true. He sings them all in the shower at home.
Did you ever try see an 18-rated film at the cinema?
Kem: Yeah! It was American Pie. I used my brother’s ID and sneaked in. It said I was 25 and I was 14. They were looking at me weird because I was wearing, like, a full-blown suit to the cinema.
What was your first-ever date like?
Amber: Someone picked me up in the car and took me to McDonald’s. What’s the most romantic menu item at McDonald’s? Probably a Crunchie McFlurry.
What sort of teenager were you?
Um, I might have been a grumpy teenager.
Did you ever try see an 18-rated film at the cinema?
I never really snuck into many movies. But my first favourite movie was Jurassic Park.
Acne: Squeeze it or leave it?
Squeeze it at the opportune moment. You have to wait for the right time so you don’t leave a mark on your face.
What sort of teenager were you?
I was awful! I was just moody and I used to hit my sister a lot. Like, hard. She used to have red marks and stuff. It was bad… but I’m not that person any more. I was a pretty awful teenager.
Did you ever call a teacher “mum”?
I always did that! It’s so embarrassing.
How did you celebrate your last ever day of school?
Oh my God. We got drunk in someone’s garden. We had a little party. Spent £5 on wine and drank it through a straw. Classy.
THE ONLY WAY IS ESSEX STAR GEMMA COLLINS
What sort of teenager were you?
I was always very studious at school, if I’m being honest. I never messed about. For any teenagers out there, you just need to follow yourself. Don’t look at magazines, don’t think it’s OK to go and have plastic surgery. Just be yourself and embrace who you are.
How did you celebrate your last ever day at school?
I think I rocked up, jumped on the school desk, did a bit of Madonna, singing and dancing. I always told everyone at school I was going to be famous. And look!
Acne: Squeeze it or leave it?
Leave it! Go to your doctor. I used to have really, really bad skin but I got this amazing roll-on from my doctor, and now I have lovely skin.
What sort of teenager were you?
I was easy-going. I had a big old group of friends, and we were out all the time being sociable. I loved being a teenager.
Did you ever call a teacher “mum”?
Yes! Especially as both my parents were teachers. You just want the earth to swallow you up.
What was your worst holiday job?
I worked in a sweet factory. People picture me as an Oompa-Loompa but actually you had to wear a lab coat and a hat and put Jelly Babies into boxes all day.
Did I eat some? Well, I seem to remember them fitting a CCTV camera while I was working there. And my skin got the worst it’s ever been.
What sort of teenager were you?
I was pretty naughty – but my mum always said I was just curious. I wanted to find out how much I could push the boundaries.
Did you get into trouble at school?
I got unofficially expelled on the very last day. I went to boarding school and we had classes on Saturday. But I’d finished all my exams and me and my friends were like, “Why are we here?” So we skipped school and went into town and had a few drinks. We were definitely underage.
The school was like, “If you were staying, you definitely would have been expelled.”
What was your first date like?
Do you know what? I’ve never really been taken on a first date because I’ve always been friends with people before dating them. So the actual first date I ever went on was three years ago, when I was 20. It was ice skating and I was terrible at it.
It’s not romantic when they’re really good and you just look like a muppet. So ice skating’s not for me.
Posted on October 24, 2017
In autumn, tons of people find entertainment by wandering through corn mazes.
There’s a reason cornfields make their way into horror movies, though. It can be claustrophobic and terrifying to be surrounded on all sides by the same rows of corn. A grown man could even get lost in an unmarked field if he wasn’t careful.
Imagine being a two-year-old lost in that same cornfield. Being all alone must be terrifying. Fortunately for one young boy, he had a friend to keep him safe.
In Minnesota, toddler Mason slipped away from his parents and into a cornfield. They were amazed that he got so far so fast.
Police had to use a helicopter equipped to find heat signatures to locate him. But who’s that with him?
It’s Mason’s English Springer Spaniel, Bella Grace, and her puppy Madeline. The dogs never left his side and barked to alert people to his location.
Read more: http://www.viralnova.com/lost-in-cornfield/
Updated on October 17, 2017
Alec Baldwin is getting a lot of press following the jabs he took at President Donald Trump in his acceptance speech for Best Supporting Actor in a Comedy Series at this year’s Emmys.
During Trump’s time hosting “The Apprentice,” he was nominated for two Emmys but never won. Trump has often detailed his grievances with the award show, saying, “The Emmys have no credibility“; arguing that he didn’t win because of politics; and, in 2012, even blaming the show’s “bad ratings” on the fact that he wasn’t nominated that year. But Trump’s inability to lose graciously is not what we need to talk about right now.
In the closing moments of Baldwin’s speech, he kinda missed the mark on something vitally important.
Baldwin wrapped his speech with a message of hope about the power of art, but in doing so, downplayed something else (emphasis added):
“I always remember what someone told me — that is when you die you don’t remember a bill that Congress passed or a decision the Supreme Court made or an address made by the president. You remember a song. You remember a line from a movie. You remember a play. You remember a book. A painting. A poem. What we do is important. And for all of you out there in motion pictures and television, don’t stop doing what you are doing. The audience is counting on you.”
The power of art is a nice sentiment, especially at an award show celebrating just that, but downplaying the significance of legislation and court decisions is a luxury many cannot afford.
While Baldwin may be right — a poem or TV show may stick in our brains more than a piece of legislation — it’s pieces of legislation that truly have an effect on our lives and can alter everything from our quality of living to how long we live. A Supreme Court decision may one day determine once and for all whether or not it’s legal to deny me housing, employment, health care, or access to public accommodations protections simply because I’m transgender. Legislation being proposed in Congress could gut access to health care for low-income individuals who rely on Medicaid or any number of other social programs.
Recipients of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals protections may be pulled away from the only home they’ve known if legislation doesn’t soon grant them a more permanent status in America. Some members of Congress are moving to turn the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) into a shell of what it once was, making the world a lot less accessible to millions of people. As Robyn Powell of Rewire wrote of the proposed ADA changes, “Never in my life as a disabled woman have I been so terrified of losing my civil rights as I am now.”
Even the songs, movies, plays, books, paintings, and poems Baldwin championed in his speech are at risk of losing funding, depending on what moves the government makes when it comes to budgeting.
Government legislation matters, and good legislation affects our lives in ways that aren’t always apparent.
For instance, during a July debate between conservative commentator Tomi Lahren and comedian Chelsea Handler, Lahren unwittingly admitted that she benefits from the Affordable Care Act.
Asked whether or not she had health insurance, Lahren replied, “Luckily, I am 24, so I am still on my parents’.” That’s thanks to a provision in the ACA that allows people to stay on their parents’ plans until they’re 26. Millions of people benefit from that change, and it’s such a commonsense, helpful bit of legislation that it’s easy to forget things haven’t always been this way. It’s not something we should take for granted.
It’s not as though Baldwin is aloof here, and he would almost certainly agree that things like court rulings and pieces of legislation can affect us in both positive and negative ways — even some that we might not be immediately aware of. Baldwin, famously, is open about his personal politics. He’s been an outspoken proponent of addressing climate change and even protested Trump’s inauguration. There is no doubt that he understands the power of government — for good and for bad. It’s safe to say that his speech was not meant to downplay those effects.
The truth is, however, that there are people who wonder why everything has to be about politics lately. The answer is simple: Millions of lives hang in the balance. Art is important, but we can’t forget the lives that can be drastically affected by various court decisions and legislation.
Watch Baldwin’s acceptance speech below.
Updated on October 10, 2017
9/11 was a turning point in every facet of American society â€” including cinema. In September of 2001, Disney was approaching final cut on Lilo & Stitch â€” a children’s film set for release in early 2002. The climax of the film initially featured Stitch piloting a 747 through a fictional Hawaiian city. But that urban backdrop was replaced with a mountainous backdrop, and the aircraft was re-worked to look like an alien spacecraft.
The changes were informed by the shift in the mood in America following the terrorist attacks on 9/11. Disney wasn’t alone in their obligation to rework content to a more appropriate tone for a nation still reeling from the attacks. Children’s shows like Power Rangers, Pokemon, and Invader Zim had episodes taken off the air due to scenes where buildings and cityscapes were destroyed.
The nation had changed, and the national conversation facilitated by popular culture had changed alongside it. To trace these developments in greater detail, read this write-up from Lindsay Ellis: Movies, patriotism, and cultural amnesia: tracing pop cultureâ€™s relationship to 9/11
Updated on September 26, 2017
On Aug. 21, actor Ed Skrein announced that he had accepted a role in the upcoming “Hellboy” reboot. A week later, he dropped out — for a very good reason.
Skrein had been cast as Ben Daimio, an employee of the fictional Bureau for Paranormal Research and Defense. Best known for his role as Ajax in 2016’s “Deadpool,” Skrein seems like he’d be a great fit for what will likely be a high-energy, action-packed “Hellboy.”
There was just one problem: The character, Daimio, is Japanese-American. Skrein is not. And Daimio’s heritage plays a pretty huge role in his story.
Hollywood has a decades-long pattern of whitewashing Asian characters. Opting not to contribute to it, Skrein dropped out of the role.
Whether it’s Matt Damon’s bland performance in “The Great Wall,” Emma Stone’s confusing portrayal of a half-Asian woman in “Aloha,” Scarlett Johansson’s starring role in the recent “Ghost in the Shell” film, or any number of other examples of white actors being cast to play Asian roles, this isn’t a new phenomenon.
It’s the ugly cousin of “yellowface,” the practice of casting white actors as Asian characters with prosthetics, makeup, and over-the-top bad accents.
Skrein announced via Twitter that after getting feedback from “Hellboy” fans, it would be best if he dropped out “so the role can be cast appropriately.”
“It is clear that representing this character in a culturally accurate way holds significance for people, and that to neglect this responsibility would continue a worrying tendency to obscure ethnic minority stories and voices in the Arts,” he wrote. “I feel it is important to honor and respect that.”
He added, “Representation of ethnic diversity is important, especially to me as I have a mixed heritage family.”
Turning down that role wasn’t an easy decision. Hopefully, however, it’ll inspire other actors and directors to do the same.
It would have probably been pretty easy for Skrein to shrug off the criticism as simple oversensitivity, but instead, he decided to listen, show some empathy, and break the cycle.
Small acts of compassion have the potential to make a big impact on the world. Thanks to fans, diversity advocates, outspoken Asian actors, and Skrein, Hollywood now has a great opportunity to vocally pivot away from its history of Asian caricature and erasure, putting whitewashing behind us. Whether that will happen is anybody’s guess, but sometimes it’s worth celebrating life’s little victories. Hopefully, the decision will pay dividends for Skrein, and he’ll land something even bigger.