National Public Box Office


Now that Hollywood is just about finished strip-mining every obscure television show/movie/cartoon from our collective childhood, they will next look towards NPR for their next round of creatively bankrupt releases.

From the folks who brought you the movie version of Prairie Home Companion comes these future blockbusters.

You, Me & Neda Ulaby

The Devil Wore Ann Taylor 

My Dinner With Andrei Codrescu

The Three Burials of Mandalit del Barco

In Like Corey Flintoff 

I’m Not Ron Rapaport

Cokie’s Fortune

Desperately Seeking Susan Stamberg 

and my personal favorite,

What About Bob Edwards 


8 Responses to “National Public Box Office”

  1. chez bez Says:

    How about The Fresh Prince of Fresh Air with Terry Gross and Will Smith?

  2. sgazzetti Says:

    I’m partial to My Dinner With Andrei Codrescu because I can imagine his relentless Dracula accent coming at me from across the dinner table, and that makes me feel like driving a stake through his heart.

  3. Sarcastro Says:

    After more than three minutes of his depressing Transylvanian patois, I want to drive a stake through my own heart.

  4. Scott Smith Says:

    Consider that these are the people who recently gave us the “Nina Toten-bag” and your sarcasm gets disturbingly close to reality. My comment when I heard about this was, “Great, they found the one person there who I still had a degree of respect for and just shot it all to hell.”

    Because the AM station is entirely automated and nobody except me ever sees the file names, I’ve taken to re-naming the shows to amuse myself.
    So “You Bet Your Garden” becomes “You Bet You’re Annoying.”
    “Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me” is “Wait Wait, Don’t Bore Me.”
    “Zorba Paster On Your Health” is “Zorba Pester On Your Nerves.”
    “Speaking of Faith” is “Reeking of Faith.”
    “Only a Game” is “Only a Shame.”
    And I can’t even tell you what “This American Life” becomes.
    “The Gristle & Hamhock” anyone?

  5. Charles Nelson Barkley Says:

    My comments are disappearing into the ether. This is my fourth try, and while it is a clever enough NPR/Bad Movie title mash-up, it is hardly funny enough for all these fucking hoops I’m having to jump through. Please look into this problem, Mr. Sarcastro.

    “Girls Just Want To Have Fund Drives.”

  6. Sarcastro Says:

    Maybe it is the six aliases you are logged in under, Charles.

  7. armchaircornerback Says:

    Whad’Ya Know What You Did Last Summer

  8. Sarcastro Says:

    I totally forgot about

    Harold and Kumar Go To Carl Kassel.

    Scott, I was wondering if the antebellum version of the quiz show was called “Wait Wait, Don’t Sell Me”?

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