After a long week of work, school, or being lazy, I bet you are all glad to see the weekend. I also bet you are glad to watch some movie trailers, so let’s get to it!


It sure gets complicated, what with all these superheroes zipping around, but here’s the basics: After Avengers, Iron Man had to save the world. Next week, Thor will save the world. And then, finally, it’ll be Captain America’s turn to save the world. Again.

The last time he was rolling solo, it was 1942 and plucky weakling Steve Rogers had just been turned into a genetically blessed super-soldier. Then life got turned upside down: Cap took a long, cold slumber and woke up in modern-day Marvel Universe America, where the bickering forces of S.H.I.E.L.D. are the only things keeping the world from becoming some evil Chitauri’s vacation home. Nowadays, he’s still kind of a downer; not only did his girlfriend die while he was sleeping underwater, all the guys in his barbershop quartet are gone, too. At least he has a few things to distract him: new sidekicks in Natasha Romanoff and Sam Wilson, better known as Black Widow and Falcon (or ScarJo and Anthony Mackie, if you're into that whole reality thing); new boss Robert Redford; an unrequited crush from Kristen in S.H.I.E.L.D. Statistics; and, of course, a super-villain to take down. (SPOILER ALERT: It’s his old best buddy Bucky!)

Now let’s take a minute to appreciate Mr. Rogers’ conscience. At one point, Nick Fury tells him “We’re gonna neutralize a lot of threats before they even happen,” and he shoots back: “I thought the punishment usually came after the crime?” Captain America: the world’s unlikeliest anti-drone advocate?


There's a new trailer for Anchorman 2 loose in the world this morning, gracefully pirouetting through our minds like a deep fryer–equipped Winnebago freed from the bonds of gravity by an inattentive chimichanga cook and an improperly deployed cruise control. Will the knowledge that Harrison Ford is Ron Burgundy's executive nemesis or that Veronica Corningstone has taken his job—the selfsame Corningstone who mounted the carnal unicorn with him and took a bareback gallop across the slippery rainbow bridge to Pleasure Town—put the proverbial fannies in the seats?

It will not.

What will put the fannies in the seats will be the ignorant vampire talk, and Brick Tamland’s missing legs, and the stunning contraceptive inefficacy of the Rigid Ghost (Boo! Your womb is haunted), even if Brian Fantana'’ storied jimmy-cabinet is redolent of old Sex Panther gags. But mostly it will be the crack smoking. Crack smoking at the anchor desk is always a winner.

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