Archive for August, 2012

Here’s the deal. Late last night Transporter 3 appeared on my television. I’ve never seen any of the Transporter films, but I started to think to myself, “If he has so many things to transport, perhaps he should utilize a service…you know, Transporter 4: UPS.”

Which got me to thinking about other strange sequels…which got me to typing the following words…which got me to updating my blog with them…okay, you’re all caught up.

My Top Ten Random Thoughts About Movie Sequels

11. Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter Um…the “final chapter?” This movie was the third of eleven sequels…then again, Friday the 13th: The Eighth to Last Chapter doesn’t have quite the right ring to it.

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

10. Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps – Just one question, who among us thought that money did sleep? I don’t understand why they chose to include this useless information about what inanimate objects can’t do, and I wonder what other titles they considered…Wall
Street: Walls Never Jog
or Wall Street: Streets Never Sip Iced Tea Casually as they Ponder the Meaning of Life.

9. Universal Soldier III: Unfinished BusinessI like this title. At least they’re being honest about their sequel, they’ve got unfinished business…they forgot to make the first two movies good…

8. When a Stranger Calls BackThe title of the original horror movie, When a Stranger Calls, is actually somewhat creepy. But if a stranger is calling you back…doesn’t that mean he or she is just returning your call? Which makes me wonder why you’re leaving messages for strangers in the first place. And it’s tremendously less frightening…

“Who…who is this?”

“It’s me…the stranger.”

“No! Not again! Why are you doing this to me?!?”

“What do you mean? I’m just calling you back.”

7. Free Willy 3: The Rescue In my attempt to be the most environmentally-friendly blog, I’ve decided to start recycling my jokes. Please refer to this post for my take on this sequel title.

6. Bloodfist VIII: Trained to KillI don’t know anything about the Bloodfist franchise, but if I had gone through seven movies with this rare disorder where my fists are constantly bleeding, I’d be less concerned with my training and more anxious to get to a specialist.

5. I Still Know What You Did Last Summer and I’ll Always Know What You Did Last SummerYes, the best way to introduce a new film is by referencing the old film and letting the audience know that nothing has changed. There’s really no reason to watch these sequels. I mean you already know what they did last summer. He still knows. Nothing’s new. And, in 2013, look for – Regarding That Which You Did Last Summer…My Knowledge of It and All Pertaining Events Remains Consistent.

4. Breakin’ 2: Electric BoogalooMy favorite type of boogaloo.

3. Honey, I Blew Up the KidI know this is a family comedy, but it sounds like a horror movie. “Um, honey, you know that experiment where I attached explosives to our offspring…” And this was followed by the direct to video, Honey, We Shrunk Ourselves. Really? You need to tell your wife that you’re both now half an inch tall? You don’t think she might have figured that out on her own as she tried to navigate her way around a grain of sand?

2. Final Destination 5In general, I think filmmakers should avoid putting the word “final” in their movie’s title if they plan on making a whole bunch of sequels. May I suggest Final Destination 6: The Last, Concluding Finish to the End of all Destinations.

The Brave Little Toaster Goes to Mars

1. The Brave Little Toaster Goes to MarsI don’t know anything about this movie, or the book so here is the actual (abbreviated) plot summary from Wikipedia…

“Rob and Chris have a baby boy named Robbie. Later, the Hearing Aid gets out of the drawer and baby Robbie gets out of his crib and follows Hearing Aid. The appliances chase after Hearing Aid, but then Robbie disappears in a bubble through space. After that, they all find out that he was sent to Mars.

They get the microwave, cheddar cheese popcorn, laundry basket and ceiling fan to help them fly and they set off in space to go to Mars and find Robbie. The appliances crash on Mars and find the baby. They meet a Christmas angel named Tinselina who was sent to mars with Viking 1. The appliances follow a group of military toasters to their leader, Supreme Commander, who is a huge refrigerator. They then learn that they are going to blow Earth up because their old owners threw them out, and Toaster tries to talk them out of it. In between the fight, Robbie is able to push a hand out of his bubble. His hand touches Supreme Commander, and the refrigerator suddenly begins to turn pink.

 The appliances go into the freezer of Supreme Commander and find the brother of Hearing Aid. They have not seen each in sixty years. When asked by Toaster why Surpreme Commander changed his mind about blowing up Earth, he says that the touch of the small boy’s hand reminded him that not all humans are bad. Tinselina gives up her clothes so they can have something organic to get back to earth.

The appliances return to Earth just in time as the baby monitor that Ratso, their pet rat, had been restraining all night, finally wakes Rob and Christine up. One day when they are taping Robbie, Rob finds Tinselina in a garbage can and fixes her up. It is a happy ending when Robbie’s first word is “Toaster!”

Which obviously begs the question…what the f#@*?

I have got to see this movie. It is either the messiest pile of cinematic nonsense ever created or the greatest film in history. A hearing aid sends a baby to Mars? Cheddar cheese popcorn allows appliances to partake in interstellar travel? NASA has been secretly exporting our angels to the red planet? Military toasters? A refrigerator that changes colors when you touch it? Hearing aids stored for decades in freezers? A Christmas angel strip tease? And, after all of this bizarre creativity, they name their pet rat Ratso? This is the craziest plot summary I’ve read in my life.

I’m moving it to the top of my Netflix queue. And I’ll watch it as soon as I return Bloodfist IX: Electric Boogaloo Never Sleeps.


Here’s the deal. There are books full of “You Know You’re Getting Older When…” jokes and observations. I’m not here to do that. In fact, allow me to simplify the whole matter. You know you’re getting older when…you continue to be alive. That’s it. We’re all getting older every day. And I’m pretty sure it’s beats the alternative (being Benjamin Button).

That being said, there are a few troubling elements to the aging process. In my twenties, I could eat anything without gaining weight, I could stay up all night without getting tired, and I could say things like, “Hey, everybody, look at me, I’m in my twenties!” And the best part – my body still worked.

Cruciate ligaments

This is a knee…or maybe an aerial shot of the Great Lakes…or some kind of dinosaur…what do I know, I’m not a doctor.

It all started last year when I hurt my knee…shooting free throws. How this is possible, I’ll never know. I wasn’t jumping. I wasn’t running. I was barely using my knee at all. Did this matter to my knee? Not a bit. My knee just sat down there saying, “Check this out, calf, I’m gonna hurt myself good even though I’m not under any duress.” (And it’s not like it was my first time shooting free throws. I’ve shot a lot of free throws in my life. The summer following my parent’s divorce, I would console myself/avoid all human contact by heading out back and shooting hundreds of free throws a day. And, even though no one believes me when I tell them this – at one point I made 97 out of 100. True story. So, you know, divorce isn’t all bad…maybe if Shaq’s parents had separated he could have avoided the clang of the rim from time to time).


Anyway, my knee hurt for like nine months…because I made the mistake of using it for standing. Come on, body parts are meant to be used. That’s what they’re there for. To work. My knee is specifically designed to bend in a pain-free fashion. That’s why I hired it. I thought it was the best body part for the job.

And this week is even worse. I woke up Sunday afternoon (don’t judge me, I have a mornings phobia) and my back was hurting. That’s right, now I’m injuring myself while sleeping. If I can’t figure out how to sleep without doing bodily harm, I’m in for a long rest of my life. Seriously, I’ve been sleeping for decades now incident free. I’m actually pretty good at it. I list napping on the Special Skills section of my resume. My Mom tells me I was even a good sleeper as a baby. It’s the one thing I’ve always excelled at. Until now.

Apparently I pulled every muscle in my back…it’s my own fault, my doctor did warn me about the dangers of lying completely still on a soft surface. And, guess what, it turns out you use the muscles in your back when you’re doing…everything. Walking. Sitting. Movement of any type. Even thinking to myself, “How is it that every single thing I do hurts my back?” somehow hurts my back.

Fortunately, my complete lack of work or a social life rarely calls for heavy lifting. And that gives me plenty of time to heal myself by keeping perfectly still…then again, that’s what got me into this situation in the first place…

Here’s the deal. I hate it when that happens.

Here’s the deal. Every 39 to 347 days, like clockwork I provide the dedicated readers reader of my blog with an update as to how my writing is shaping our lives. A review of how my insight helps make all of us better. A list of random articles that are tangentially related to things I prattle on about.

For those of you who have not been here since the beginning, this whole thing started as an attempt to achieve Patton Oswalt level fame and become a published author. On day 1 of this blog, when you entered my name into Google, no results came up, just the word, “What?” Today, when you enter my name into Google, you get 307,000,000 results (at least, that’s what I got when I just searched for…Tom Cruise –makyamcbee).

So, apparently, I am a huge success.

But perhaps the best way to judge the accurate level of my awesomeness is to see how my words have changed our world…

Back in May, I (not unlike Selena Gomez when she took Bieber off the market) disappointed eleven year old girls around the world when I versused unicorns. But it had to be done. Unicorns are ridiculous. And now, they’re destroying our pop stars! According to this article, national treasure Miley Cyrus recently updated her twitter account with a picture of her wearing a huge, unicorn head. Let’s, for the time being, set aside the fact that the former Hannah Montana is hunting and beheading mythical beasts in her spare time…wow, that’s a pretty strange thing to set aside…I don’t know if that’s setasidable. Regardless, we simply cannot afford to have our nation’s daughters of our Achy, Breaky Heartsingers morphing into fictional, horned horses. If for no other reason, it just sounds silly.


Next, I have to issue a rare, formal Makya McBee Vs. apology. Earlier this year (and having never seen the film myself) I gave a complete plot summary of Piranha 3DD. The movie went on to open over the summer and rake in a total of $376,512 in U.S. theaters. Given its approximated budget of twenty million dollars, that gives this horror flick an impressive profit of negative $19,624,488. And I blame myself. Had I not played the role of spoiler to my seven plus readers, that movie could have grossed another fifty or sixty bucks. If only I’d known. (But, in some ways, I did know…a quick check of some reviews by people who actually saw the film proved my predictions to be pretty accurate). Nonetheless, stay tuned for my future pre-reviews of Piranha 4 Wheel Drive (in which theses deadly fish mutate, gain the ability to operate motor vehicles, and race Vin Diesel around the world), Piranha 5-and-Dime (the piranhas time travel back to the 1950’s and terrorize a bunch of innocent shoppers), Piranha 6 Pack (in the franchise’s first comedy, the fish head to spring break in a last ditch effort to lose their virginity), Piranha 7 Year Itch (a remake of the Marilyn Monroe movie, starring aquatic life in all of the lead roles) and Piranha 8 Maids a Milking (destined to become a terrifying holiday classic).

Lastly, we go way back to November 2011 when I rallied the troops against confusing vanity license plates. And, sure enough, these plates have continued to cause trouble ever since. The most entertaining story I found on vanity plates was about an unfortunate man who purchased a plate that read, “XXXXXXX.” Why is he unfortunate? Well, it turns out that when his city police force locates illegally parked cars without license plates they designate this in their computer with a series of seven x’s. That’s right, he ended up receiving every single parking ticket for cars without plates…getting up to ten tickets per day in the mail. That’ll teach you to try and express yourself via your vehicles bumper. Another story details an armed home robbery in which the thieves held up an innocent family and then sped away in their car…featuring a personalized plate. Who knows if the traumatized family would have been in a state of mind to recall a random series of letters and numbers, but how could they forget when the car drove away with the plate, “JST RBD U.” (Okay, I made the plate up, but the rest of the story is true).

As you can see, this blog continues to be a mover and/or shaker and an active voice in our global community. And, together, we can continue to transform our world into a magical place where no one wears flip-flops, everyone takes naps, and the elimination of all of the ridiculous little things that irk me are job one. Okay, ready? Everybody put on your unicorn heads…let’s do this thing.

Here’s the deal. When I started this blog, I made three promises to you, the reader: to never be anything but 100% honest, to never give up the fight, and to never, ever put Baby in the corner.

Wait a second…I never made any promises. I can do whatever I want. Nice try, suckers.

But I did, a mere 39 days after my first blog post, offer you an update on how my versusing was affecting the world. And I continued this tradition with a 78, 126, and 165 day update…and then I had to pay some bills, pick up my dry cleaning, and throw the whole concept of blog updates out the window.

Until now.

Some of the contestants in the Scripps Nationa...

So many spellings…so little time…

Let’s see…where to begin…a couple of months ago I took on alternate spellings. Lo and behold (it’s weird, does “lo” ever go anywhere without “behold”…that’s a true friendship) here’s an article about a spelling bee in which a contestant was told they had misspelled a word but, upon further review, the judges acknowledged that the speller’s version was an accepted alternate spelling in the dictionary. Proof positive that my theory was correct and this practice is out of control. If our spelling bee judges can’t even keep track of alternate spellings, what hope does our society have? As my father always told me growing up, “Son, whenever in doubt, seek the sage wisdom of a spelling bee judge.” (He wasn’t a well man).

And who can forget my well-reasoned argument to abolish pennies? At least Canada was listening. Read this if you want details on their plan to remove the penny from their currency on February 4, 2013 (saving their tax payers an estimated eleven million dollars annually and conveniently rounding all prices to the nearest nickel). Let’s be honest, everyone knows that Canada is better than America. They’ve got one more “a” in their name, they’ve got lots of maple syrup and…I’m sure there’s some other good stuff going on over there. Can we afford to fall further behind our neighbors to the…I want to say…East? In addition to their superior understanding of the cardinal directions, Canada is now beating us to the logical elimination of the penny. And saving a bunch of money in the process. Come on, America, get off your tushy and get on board the penny-killing train. Do you have any idea what I could do with eleven million dollars?

Back in May, after viewing the show for the first time, I tore into America’s Got Talent like a rabid Chihuahua having its way with an unsuspecting sock monkey. And, sure enough, the show is now falling apart. According to this article from last week, Sharon Osbourne (famous for taking the last name of a man who consumes bats in a single bite) is quitting, and angling for her job is none other than Kris Jenner (famous for being famous). Reality television, once a place where careers are born, is now where careers go to die.

There’s more…oh, there’s so much more…enough for another whole post. What’s that? You want to hear it all right now? Not gonna happen. Wait a second…what are you doing? Hey, I didn’t say you could put your hand on my knee. How dare you get fresh with me?

I’m not that kind of blog.

Here’s the deal. People act differently in hotel rooms. And usually not in a good way.

Maybe it’s just our way of trying to emulate celebrities. Rock stars and bad boy actors have a storied tradition of trashing hotel rooms simply because they can. Superstar Keith Moon was known to throw television sets out the window, set off cherry bombs throughout hotel rooms and even once drove a car into the swimming pool. His hotel behavior was so bad that The Who were banned from all Holiday Inns, Sheratons and Hiltons. Which created endless comedy banter for hotel clerks across the country…

“The Who can’t stay here anymore.”

English: The Who, original line up, performing...

The Who?



“Who can’t stay here?”

“You got it.”

“I don’t understand. Who can’t stay here?”

“Not just here, they can’t stay at any of our hotels.”

“What are you talking about? Tell me this – which people can stay here.”


“Who can stay in Boston?”

“No. Who can’t stay anywhere.”

“You’re not making any sense. Are there people that are allowed to stay at our hotel?”

“Of course. For example, Kansas is fine.”

“Why are you talking about Kansas now? Why does it matter who can stay in Kansas?”

“No they can’t. Like I said, they can’t stay anywhere.”


“Right. They can’t stay anywhere. But Kansas can stay in Boston, Boston can stay in Kansas, either can stay anywhere.”

“I should have never left Chicago.”

“They can stay too.”


“Chicago. Chicago’s fine to stay.”

“Who’s fine in Chicago?”

“No. Who’s not fine anywhere. They’re banned. But Chicago is fine. Boston is fine. Kansas is fine. Who can’t stay here.”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Who can’t stay here?”


“Wait…are you talking about the band The Who? Are you saying The Who can’t stay at our hotel?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying the whole time.”

“Well, that was a cheap trick.”

“They’re booked for Saturday.”

Now, where was I? Oh, yes, why do people lose control the minute they step into a hotel room? Take Howard Hughes, one of the most successful businessmen in the world. Then, he checks into a hotel room and suddenly he’s walking around wearing tissue boxes for shoes, only cutting his hair and fingernails once a year, and spending endless hours sorting peas by size. Why would you do that? You can’t get good traction with tissue boxes. They offer no protection for your feet whatsoever. And they’re really not all that stylish. Plus, where are you going to keep your tissues? You see what I’m saying…people act differently in hotels.

Jack Nicholson in the famous “Here’s Johnny” scene

“Can I get a wake-up call?”

Jack Torrance certainly changed. Torrance, of course, is the protagonist of the 1977 Stephen King novel The Shining, the 1980 movie The Shining and the 1997 mini-series The Shining (busy guy, huh?). As you may recall, he took his wife and son up to Overlook Hotel to be the caretaker for the winter months. (Here’s a life tip for you – don’t take a job when everyone who held that position in the past went crazy and murdered their family). Anyway, long story short, ghost lady, creepy girl twins, blood elevator and, just like Keith Moon before him, Torrance starts trashing that hotel. Then the kid started saying, “Sdrawkcab,” which nobody understands until they realize that it’s “backwards” backwards…and then they still don’t understand it. Maybe I’m remembering it wrong, it’s been a long time. But the point remains …people act differently in hotels.

Of course, it didn’t help that the hotel was built on an Indian burial ground. You see, there was a time in the 1980’s when land developers were buying up Indian burial grounds just as fast as they could find them and building creepy hotels and soon to be haunted houses. It was all the rage.

But the point is, let’s show some decorum people. Let’s not treat our hotel rooms like oversized garbage cans. Let’s not act like nuts just because we’re out of the house. Let’s not park in the pool.

So the next time you check in at your local Ancient Indian Burial Ground Suites…the next time you start to eye those tissue boxes and think you could pull off the look…the next time you fail to remember that it’s someone’s job to clean up all those unspeakable things you’re doing to your hotel room…just try and act reasonably…try not to be a total wreck…try to remember who you are…


“No. Don’t you start again.”

“But I had this whole bit about how I needed you to clean The Doors.”


“Oh, they’re in room 237.”

Here’s the deal. I started this blog back in 1977, and in the many decades I’ve been erupting truth on to the internet like an infallible Old Faithful, never have I met as much resistance as with my last blog post. How is it that everyone I know and everyone who reads this blog only eats crunchy peanut butter? How is that possible?

I’ve received hate mail. My phone rings and when I answer I only hear a crunching sound and then they hang up. The chunk cartel has threatened numerous lawsuits. My senator has appealed to me to retract my statements.

In the comments section, jefferree said, “Why would you take the crunch out of anything?” For the same reason I’d take the extra letters out of my name, it’s unwanted and unneeded. His crunchy peanut butter induced rant continued, “Everything’s better with nuts in it.” Really? Really jjjjjjeff? What about your shoes? Would you be more comfortable walking around with a sneaker full of almonds? How about a swimming pool? How would filling our swimming pools with hazelnuts help anybody? Would Phelps have ever made the record if he’d tried to learn to swim in that nutty mess? I think not, my unpatriotic friend, I think not.

And I will not retract my statements.

I’ve never been one to cave to peer pressure (except for that one time my friend pressured me into spelunking…get it? “Cave” to peer pressure. I’m freakin’ hilarious). I remember back in high school I was sent to the principal’s office for refusing to do a maze in government class.

Allow me to explain.

Ian Holm as Bilbo Baggins in Peter Jackson's T...

You’re getting very sleepy…

We had a teacher whose name I’ve long since forgotten. He looked like an elderly Bilbo Baggins and he “taught” government. On this day, he took out some broccoli shaped mazes and handed them out, then pulled his pillow out of his desk (I am not making this up, the man kept a pillow in his desk drawer so he could nap during class time) and prepared for slumber. I took my maze up to him and asked why we were doing such a pointless exercise. He told me to return to my seat and complete said pointless exercise without questioning the pointlessness of it all. I pointed out that he could of, at the least, found a government-themed maze (help the freshman senator find his way to the special interest lobbyist bribes). He pointed me in the direction of the principal’s office.Even after I informed our fearless leader about the nap-prone instructor, he asked me to apologize to him. I, being a teenager of great principle when it came to facing principals regarding vegetable related mazes, politely declined.

And I find myself, today, once again, politely declining.

I politely decline to go along with this crunchy peanut butter mob mentality. Nuts, in fact, make very few things better. You know the only way walnuts could taste any better? If they didn’t have any walnuts in them. I don’t want nuts in my cookies or brownies or on my ice cream, all they do is get in the way of my dessert. And nothing…nothing…gets in the way of my dessert.

All of you who are nutty for nuts can keep your crunch to yourselves. At the end of the day, a man’s gotta stand for something. And, in this day and age, I can think of absolutely nothing more important than advocating a traditional, smooth, creamy spread.

I think we are inviting God’s judgment on our nation when we shake our fist at Him and say, “We know better than you as to what constitutes peanut butter.”