DAY SEVEN: Whitemans Can’t Jump
29 Films
Yesterday <> Tomorrow
Flashback!
29 Films in 29 Days (2012)
“Funny videos from the funny video brothers, eh? So you guys think you’re real funny guys by making all these “quote-unquote” funny videos, eh?”
It’s not about whether or not the short film is funny, okay. It’s about the art.
“So, would you say-”
(Fart noise made by a mouth)
DAY ONE: Spring Cleanin’
DAY TWO: Gold Rush
DAY THREE: A Real Mouthful
DAY FOUR: Laughing Time
DAY FIVE: Perspective
DAY SIX: Burger w/ Sleaze
DAY SEVEN: Whitemans Can’t Jump
DAY EIGHT: Positive Changes
DAY NINE: There’s Always Tomorrow
DAY TEN: T.G.I.F
DAY ELEVEN: Peace, Out
DAY TWELVE: Flame Bro-wer
DAY THIRTEEN: Fffttt! Like a Cheetah!
DAY FOURTEEN: I’m With Cupid
DAY FIFTEEN: Loaded Wish
DAY SIXTEEN: Call of Doodie
DAY SEVENTEEN: High Strung
DAY EIGHTEEN: My Bad
DAY NINETEEN: Encore
DAY TWENTY: Life After Death
DAY TWENTY-ONE: Wish Beats All
DAY TWENTY-TWO: This Means War
DAY TWENTY-THREE: Pranks For Nothin’
DAY TWENTY-FOUR: I’ve Got My Pie On You
DAY TWENTY-FIVE: Another Banana Fiasco
DAY TWENTY-SIX: Another Special Day
DAY TWENTY-SEVEN: The Thin Red Wish
DAY TWENTY-EIGHT: Frowntown
DAY TWENTY-NINE: King Nothing
That’s right: it’s another leap year, which means we cranked out 29 short films in 29 days – all of which involve our prop beloved baby, Metallica (who just might have a few tricks up his little magical sleeves this year!) Essentially, what this means is this: we drank an inhuman amount of Red Bull until we thought something was funny, and then we turned these “jokes” into new movies, and then we put the movies online for you to enjoy or scoff at. It is an exhaustive and exhilarating exorcise in form and emotional stamina to try to make so many compelling sorta funny videos.
We did this in the leap year of 2008. You can view that batch of baby jokes to catch up on our antics and see how we’ve mah-too-errrd as comedians and filmmakers. (Oh, gawsh, I hope some one notices!) And, hey, you don’t wanna be the only one under the mistletoe at midnight on February 29th who feels a little lost in the content of our grand narrative thing!
If you find them amusing, you can also view lower resolution versions (!!!) of some of them on Funny Or Die – while you’re there, make sure you click “Funny” if a) you thought they were funny videos, or b) you want us to think you thought they were funny. And if you don’t like them, well, I don’t know what to tell you. I mean, it’s not like you can ask for a refund: they’re free movies.
It’s over! The shortest month of the year turned into the longest month of the year, and we came out relatively unscathed with 29 new funny videos!
16. Ostensible
Ostensibly, he wore the make-shift super villain costume to hide his true identity, but in actuality, I wear it to hide from my true identity.
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Wordsward
15. Xylography
Why Young Abigail initially ended up on the back porch, playing with her father’s old pocket knife, is anyone’s guess – mine: boredom. But that’s not important. What’s important is why everyday since, she would at some point find herself splayed out on the weathered pine, digging the blade’s word tip into the surface of the planks and blowing the splinters and chips away like they were the flames of candles on a cake not quite designated for a birthday. She didn’t really know the reason, herself. All she knew was that suddenly she’d be there, working on yesterday’s pattern, which was an elaboration what had been carved the day before, and so on.
It was strange to Abigail – she had never much liked drawing or even doodling. She wondered if it had something to do with physical ease of dragging a pencil against paper. When she was chipping wood away, her mind would be so absent of the image – or anything really – as her hands seemed to be focused and preoccupied enough for the whole of her.
Occasionally her mother, whose routine these days was emptying a pack of cigarettes in the kitchen until she felt the obligation to prepare some form of a dinner, would forget to shut the back door. In such instances, it would be common that the billow and escape through screen door’s shoddy wire, and the cloud would distract Abigail, letting all the sounds and sights of the here and now remind her of something big and scary and not altogether real. There was an ever-present darkness within and among Abigail that was difficult for her understand or even really be aware of, let alone explain to her mother or school chums.
Actually, it’s tricky for me to explain too, because I’m not Abigail, but I do know more about it than you. All that I can feel comfortable saying about the darkness is that each etch and groove that was chiseled from the pine was bit of whiteness carved out from behind the mass of pitch-blackness she could sense. However, her hands knew that evening out all of the floorboards to a new, more or less, flat surface would just yield all of the white dim down into what it had been. There was something important in the tactile variance of depth. Something real.
Spin the seasons one good turn and you’ll see Abigail, still young but much older, standing on the rails and digging the knife into top-most trim of the porch, where the design had grown and where it would end.
Eventually, Abigail hopped down, barefoot onto the rough and ornate floor of the porch. She didn’t really know what to do. After a silent meal with her mother in a smoke-drenched kitchen, she decided it might be time to visit her father’s grave.
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