* In order to improve the stiff acting of the two male leads, Paul Walker and Vin Diesel are played by Gary Oldman and Daniel-Day Lewis.

* All pretenses have been dropped and all characters are just called by their real names.

* The plot involves a rogue gang hijacking a military compound followed by the Rock reaching out to Dominic Torretto (Vin Diesel) and his crew for help. Because apparently, when the going gets tough, the U.S. military’s backup plan is, “Let’s just hire some mouth-breathing car thief and his degenerate sidekicks.”

* As the crew plans their scheme, Jason Statham shows up out of nowhere. When asked why, he shrugs and says, “Dunno. Just felt like I should be here.”

* In one scene, Vin Diesel and Paul Walker are confronted by the bad guys in a tank. Diesel squints and yells out, “Why don’t you put that tank up against this car? You win, we turn ourselves over. We win, you go home.” The bad guy responds by saying, “Umm no thanks, this is a tank, you’d easily beat us,” and then shoots them with the tank’s giant cannons.

* Michelle Rodriguez returns in a shocking cameo, as her character was believed to be dead. Even more shocking is that the filmmakers act like her resurrection is some kind of big deal, like she’s Gandalf in Two Towers.

* In order to return to the series’ roots and focus more on cars, the film introduces a new character: Tony, a Ford GTO with a heart of gold voiced by Nic Cage.

* After defeating literally every vehicle you can imagine in a race, Vin Diesel and Paul Walker travel to Africa and challenge a cheetah to race his Mustang. “You win, you get to eat us. We win, you abandon your life as a cheetah and become our pet.”

* Everybody just kind of forgets that Jordana Brewster’s character was pregnant in Fast Five, leading to Paul Walker yelling out halfway through, “Oh no! We forgot our kid!” It’s kind of comical for a minute like Home Alone, only in this one when they get home the baby’s dead.

* Weird scene in the middle where one of the stunts actually ends with a car accident. They spend like fifteen minutes showing Vin Diesel exchanging insurance information with a 57 year old Jewish woman. No one is hurt but Zora is pretty shaken up.

* Needing a plane to travel to another part of the country, Vin Diesel gets in his Dodge Charger and offers to race the plane of a rival gang. “You win, we give you $1 million. We win, we get to take your plane and fly direct anywhere in the continental U.S., no layovers.” The plane wins easily.

* The film ends when (SPOILER) the good guys win, but as they’re driving away Vin Diesel responds to a text from the driver’s seat. He then crashes and kills everybody, including Tyrese, Paul Walker, Jordana Brewster, Ludacris, the hot Israeli chick, the Asian guy, and the Rock. After a graphic shows some sobering statistics, it turns out the whole film series was intended as a parable warning against the dangers of texting while driving.

* In an absolute ridiculous post-credits scene, the Rock shows up (alive) and tells Vin and his crew (who are also all alive again), “You guys are good. In fact, you’re the best. But we’ve got some new enemies. If you want to help us find them, you’ll have to step your game up.” He then tosses a dossier file on the table in front of them that reveals pictures of Kim Jong Un, Osama bin Laden, and Darth Vader.

For the first time in 17 years, the East Coast is preparing for a massive swarm of Brood II cicadas. Here’s are some tips for dealing with these harmless but annoying pests: 

* Make sure all windows are closed when playing Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get It On. These things are already mating enough, they don’t need more motivation.

* Don a mask and carry a tennis racket with you everywhere you go to swat them out of the air.  Proclaim yourself “Cicada Batman.”

* When one of them takes out its oversized, Zack Morris-style giant cellphone from the mid-90′s, pull out your handheld smartphone and smirk while a bunch of cute chicks fawn over you. Hope he shuffles away in embarrassment.

* Tell your sources within the Obama administration they’ve been educating other cicadas about the Constitution. Wait for inevitable IRS investigation.

* Crack open a couple good books, download some new tunes to the iPod, and stay indoors until February 2014.

* Introduce them to YouTube, ensuring they spend the bulk of their summer watching videos of funny cats or fistfights at IHOP.

*  Loudly announce, “I bet none of you chicken shit cicadas can get to Tierra del Fuego by September!” in the forest and hope they’re cicada enough to take your challenge.

* According to experts, cicadas are low in fat and high in protein. They also taste like shrimp when boiled and peeled. So what seems like a nuisance can actually be converted into a fun, summer time treat! Just be sure to alert everyone know that you’re the type of person who eat bugs so they can stop talking to you, because seriously man, what the fuck? They’re bugs.

* Crush their little spirits by telling them that Arli$$, which debuted on HBO in 1996 during the last invasion and was popular among the coveted Brood II demographic, has long since been cancelled.

* When outdoors, speak ill of gay marriage and pray they are repulsed by your senseless bigotry.

* Go to every pharmacy in the Mid-Atlantic Region. Buy out all the Visine you can afford. Their inability to clear their red eyes should make them self conscious.

* They can’t hurt you, so how ’bout just quit being a little bitch about it?

In case you can’t read, it’s called “Toby Keith’s I Love This Bar and Grill.” I don’t know how the restaurant itself is going to turn out, but I have a few problems with the name. Now, for all you Toby Keith fans out there, I understand the name is derived from one of his songs. It’s still stupid.

First off, it’s an entire sentence. That’s not a name, that’s a Yelp review. They’re throwing way too much information at us. A restaurant’s name is supposed to convey a certain vibe in one or two words. This place tells us what it is (a bar and grill), who’s behind it (Toby Keith) and what he thinks of the place (loves it).  Relax. You don’t have to be that forthcoming right off the bat. That’s like starting a dinner date by saying, “Hi, I’m Karen. My parents ruined my life and I hate them. Want to go halves on an appetizer?”

It reeks of insecurity, like they’re trying to cover up some kind of shortcoming. “Look, Toby Keith loves this place. You should too. I’m telling you, it’s great. Really. We definitely don’t use expired meat. All our cooks have their papers. That isn’t a cockroach. Milk is good for seven day’s after the expiration date.”

Right now, the place’s only selling point is that Toby Keith loves it. That’s fine, but what if Toby Keith and I have divergent culinary preferences? What if Toby Keith’s palette is unrefined? Now I’m worried I’ll order a cheeseburger and the chef will bring out a hunk of wolf meat on a bagel with a moldy Kraft single on it,  shrugging as if to say, “Sorry, this is Toby Keith’s idea of a cheeseburger.” Or what if I order chicken tenders and it’s just a half-cooked pigeon with the poor pigeon’s face still intact, horrified expression and all? All because one time when he was 10 Toby Keith had pigeon, and he didn’t think it was half bad.

My entire dining experience is dependent on Toby Keith’s taste.  I don’t care if Toby Keith loves this bar and grill, I want to know if I love this bar and grill. They should call it “Toby Keith’s I Assure You the Food Here is Pretty Good by Most People’s Standards.” When I’m choosing a restaurant, a lot of factors come into play. Menu. Service. Atmosphere. You know what doesn’t? What a country singer thinks about the place. Other restaurants know this, which is why TGI Friday’s is called TGI Friday’s and not “Kenny Chesney Thinks the Jalapeno Poppers Here are Decent.”

The other thing is that when I walked past the restaurant-to-be, it was just a boarded up, unfinished structure. How do we REALLY know Toby Keith will love this bar and grill? Because right now it’s just a bunch of wood, nails, screws, and power tools. Does Toby Keith take all his meals in the middle of construction sites? I’m picturing him at a fancy restaurant with a waiter emptying a pepper grinder full of sawdust onto his pasta waiting for TK to say “when.” Or maybe eating an entire chicken sitting on a beam near the top of a Depression-era skyscraper while guys in hardhats walk by precariously.

My nightmare scenario? The restaurant is a huge success, and all businesses change their name to reflect Toby Keith’s opinion of it. Target becomes “Eh, It’s Got Trucker Hats and Flannel Vests But Not Much Else.” Pottery Barn becomes “Containers You Can Spit Tobacco In.” And Taco Bell becomes “Good Food, Not Sure About the People Who Made It Though.”

Many are outraged, but A&F is sticking to its guns.  They’ve come up with a number of new marketing ideas to better embrace their elitism. Here are a few of them: 

* Placing cakes throughout the store as bait so when the fatties go for it, they’ll be pulled up into a net and taunted by a guy with a six pack.

* All women’s clothes now come in two sizes: anorexic or bullimic.

* Each store will have community college applications for for all those cool A&F customers who peaked in high school.

* Free collagen injections for all toddlers.

* Every checkout counter will have a jar of roofies like restaurants do with mints.

* In every store, cardboard cutouts of the man who symbolizes the epitome of coolness: Arthur Fonzarelli.

* All purchases over $100 come with a complimentary Asian dork to do your math homework for you.

* This has always kind of been an unspoken thing, but just to reiterate and make it official….yeah, no blacks.

* Trap doors in all dressing rooms for customers with a BMI higher than 22.

* Special Edition Blu-rays of the Karate Kid re-edited so it ends with the Cobra Kai murdering Daniel LaRusso and showing his girlfriend what a real man feels like.

* Polo shirts with titanium-strength collars that physically cannot be unpopped.

* No joke for this one, just a statement: Mike Jeffries looks like if Gary Busey fucked Joan Rivers.

Did you know there’s a McDonald’s sandwich known as the “McGangbang?” It’s a combination double cheeseburger mixed with a McChicken sandwich, and it’s only available if you specifically ask for it. To avoid posting calorie counts, many fast food chains offer “secret items” available only upon request. After doing a bit of Internet sleuthing, I found secret menu items from some other fast food joints: 

* Burger King’s Chicken Lenders:  Sentient chicken tenders that loan you $5 if you ever need cash in a pinch.

* Hardee’s Stevie Boy: The restaurant will send founder Steve Hardees home with you to make you a delicious pot roast.

* Taco Bell’s Ultimate Dorito Experience: To accompany their Doritos Locos Tacos, if you lay down face-up on the counter of any participating Taco Bell and scream “Dorito Me!” a cashier will pour a whole bag of Doritos directly in your mouth.

* Wendy’s Extermi-baconator: A Baconator coated with rat poison for some reason.

* Chipotle’s I Deserve This: After you’re done eating a burrito bowl packed to the brim with fattening garbage, a Chipotle employee will come out of the back and yell at you for being such a fat piece of shit, because you enjoy being degraded, don’t you? Yeah, you do! That’s the only way someone could subject themselves to the indignity of eating such a disgusting amount of food at this goddamn place, you tub of lard! Lick my shoe, scumbag!

* Sonic’s Sonic the Hedgehog Burger: A grilled hedgehog dyed blue on ciabatta bread. It is terrible.

* Pizza Hut’s Tony Baloney Special:  A regular pizza where they give you a picture of a fat guy named Tony with the words “Yo this guy had his hands in the dough” written on it.

* Subway’s Fifteen Dollar footlong: This one is just a regular footlong for $10 extra.

* Dunkin’ Donuts “Time to Make the Donuts” Special: If you ask nicely, a Dunkin’ Donuts employee will cheerfully say “Time to Make the Donuts!” before serving you. He will then put a cold Glock in your mouth, blow your brains all over the customer behind you, then turn the gun on himself.

* KFC’s Humane Bucket: For customers who request it, the fried chicken outlet offers chickens that weren’t tortured before slaughter. Of course, if you’re sick, they also offer extra tortured, which are chickens who had to watch their families slaughtered first.

* McDonald’s McGangbang: If you actually order one of these, the manager of the McDonald’s will come out of the back and have a nice long talk with you about where your life went wrong.

New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg is trying to improve his city’s health through legislative action. But what’s his next move? Here’s are some upcoming health initiatives for which Bloomberg is advocating:

* By 2020, goal is streets that feature 40% less piss.

* New ordinance will require fast food employees to fat-shame anyone who orders a size above medium.

* Instead of walking to work, everyone will be forced to sprint as they’re targeted by rooftop snipers.

* Street vendors to begin peddling “carrot dogs.”

* Black crime lords will now spend Thanksgiving morning handing out tofurkeys.

* All Middle Eastern cab drivers will spend the entire taxi ride pushing the health benefits of hummus.

* Criminals will now be required by law to drive you to the hospital after they mug and/or rape you.

* Subway posters warning about the dangers of heart disease will give riders a new thing to worry about, replacing the old standard subway fear of getting pushed in front of an oncoming car by some psycho.

* Creamy nougat center of the Statue of Liberty to be cleared out and replaced with rice cakes.

* Crack will now be legal, but only if you mix it with oatmeal.

* Instead of playing instruments or panhandling for change, beggars will be required to instruct street-side yoga classes.

* All hipsters will be rounded up, savagely beaten, and put into internment camps. This one isn’t really a health initiative but we can all agree it’s about high time this went down.

Do take Thursday and Friday off. You don’t want to have to worry about working on days featuring sixteen games.
Don’t quit your job. If you have the vacation, take it; if not, don’t storm in and tell your boss that he can stick his mediocre pay up his ass so you can go watch Duke facial Lehigh.

Do get to the bar early. If you plan on staying where you’re at all day, get there at 11 in the morning to get a good table (I’m not joking).
Don’t sleep there the night before. Showing up at the bar with pajamas, a teddy bear, and a pillow while asking if they have a couch you can crash on will endear you to no one.

Do go to Vegas. I’ve never been for the tournament, but I heard it’s awesome.
Don’t go overboard on the gambling. By the time the Final Four rolls around you want to be focused on the games, not wondering if you’re HMO covers bookie-induced tibia fractures.

Do overtip your waitress. If you’re posting up at the same spot for more than two hours, you might want to throw her a couple extra bucks.
Don’t think you’re Ray Liotta in Goodfellas for doing so. Throwing the waitress an extra five is fine, but your friends will think you’re a douche if you start throwing twenties to bartenders, cooks, hostesses, and confused but appreciative busboys.

Do get passionate. Everyone likes a fan who’s into the game.
Don’t go overboard. Nobody wants to be the ”Is he taking his shirt off in public?”  guy.

Do quote your favorite announcer if it is Bill Raftery. He’s the best in the business. SEND IT IN JEROME!
Don’t quote your favorite announcer if it is Dick Vitale. In today’s society, calling everyone “baby” will inevitably result in a sexual harrassment charge at some point down the line. If you mimic Vitale, are you really willing to get a drink thrown in your face, slapped, and prosecuted? All so you can be like some bald asshole who looks like an owl?

Do fill out a bracket. Why wouldn’t you? Even if it sucks, so what? Nobody knows what they’re doing.
Don’t be “that guy.” Congratulations on going out on a limb and predicting that UNC and Kentucky would make deep runs in the tournament. We’re all very, very impressed. Look, the whole thing is a crap shoot. If you pick a few games right, go ahead and celebrate, but don’t act like you’re some genius because you “had” Murray State going to the Elite 8. Be honest with everyone, you did it because your neighbor’s dog is named Murray. Or maybe you really enjoy Canadian songstress Anne Murray. Either way, you’re not Jay Bilas.

Do talk trash. It’s all in good fun.
Don’t start a fight. No use doing time for aggravated assault because some dude behind you got angry at your “Coach K looks like Hitler shaved his moustache!” routine that everyone has used since ’86.

Do talk basketball. Use whatever knowledge you have to engage other basketball fans in stimulating conversation about the game.
Don’t lie about your basketball acumen.  There’s no need to lie to girls and tell them you know what you’re talking about because you played Division III just to improve your already middling chances of getting laid.

Do have some drinks. You’re going to be at a bar, presumably, so of course you should have a few adult bevs.
Don’t get too wasted. By the time the late games roll around, everyone wants to focus on basketball. Nobody wants to focus on stopping the guy singing Prince’s Raspberry Beret in a UNC jersey with his pants off from driving home.

One of the definitions Webster’s Dictionary gives us for the word drone is “to speak in a monotonous tone.” It’s also a word associated with boring lectures. Look, I may be an instrument of destruction. I may also be a murderer of innocents on occasion. But one thing I am not is a bad public speaker. Talk to me, and you’ll find yourself enraptured.

For example, last week I threw a party at my place and before I interjected, the conversation was all kinds of lame. It was so bad people started talking about their favorite type of lettuce. Spoiler alert: it was a romaine crowd. I hear this, put down my beer, park myself next to the spinach dip, and spend the next 45 minutes taking everyone on a wild journey  with the tale of that time I went to Pakistan and massacred a pack of Taliban soldiers and some sheep who were just minding their own business. I  was rewarded with a round of applause and all the Chex Mix I could eat. I accepted the applause but had to refuse the Chex Mix, as I am a plane.

Or how about last October, when I was on a date with this chick Carol. I show up a few minutes late, and she’s not happy. Do I panic? No! I soulfully regale her with the story of the time I blasted those Iraqi insurgents back to the Stone Age. Let me tell ya, if it was possible for an unmanned combat air vehicle to have sexual intercourse with a human female, we would’ve been getting down with our bad selves that night!

No one can capture a group’s attention like me, no matter how hostile that audience is. Take a few months ago, when I was dropping bombs on a village where the U.S. government thought al Qaeda operatives might be hiding out. As I was leaving the area, I noticed several innocent civilians who were going to be caught in the blast radius. As they looked up in terror, I really quick yelled down this great joke I know about a priest and a rabbi walking into a butcher shop. As I hit the punchline, they all guffawed with delight right before they were senselessly wiped from the face of the Earth. Even though I was the Grim Reaper assigned to bring about their unjust demise, it felt great to make people laugh. I should do standup.

What’s next for me? Well, due to all this political debate I’m worried I’ll lose my job soon, so I’ve signed a lucrative deal to go out on the speaking circuit. I’ll be paid thousands of dollars to recount my multitude of stories. Stories of love, romance, murdering brown people, adventure, passion, executing people who did nothing more than be in the wrong place at the wrong time, intrigue, mystery, and the government’s future plans to carry out attacks on U.S. soil against its own citizens.

Wait, forget I said that last part.

* The power of flight

* Speed, defense, a rocket arm, and the ability to hit for power or average

* Tolerance and love for all of God’s creatures except anyone who’s been in a Harlem Shake video

* Can do magic, but the card trick kind, not the “ability to heal the lame” kind

* Knows the lyrics to You Can Call Me Al in case he’s ever cast as Chevy Chase in a remake of the video

* Can handle himself on the dance floor, but not to the point where you think he might be gay

* Would be cool if he could beatbox

* Ability to fill awkward silences in all conversations with needless movie trivia. For example, did you know that Christopher Walken almost got the role of Han Solo? How different would that film have been? Right? See, now we’re off on a topic. Awkward silence lifted.

* Should already know how to say the alphabet backwards now because how embarrassing would it be to get a DUI in the Popemobile?

* Has to be able to do at least 9 pull-ups

* Basically anyone who doesn’t think little boys are hot

* DO stock up on non-perishable canned goods before the storm. DON’T mug an old woman for the last can of Beefaroni.

* DO clear all the ice and snow off the roof of your car. DON’T throw it all into the street and then spray the pile with your hose in order to “teach your neighbors a lesson.”

* DO make an adorable snowman with the neighborhood children. DON’T give him snow-genitalia.

* DO help your older neighbors shovel their snow. DON’T ridicule them for being physically unable to do what you can while flexing and winking like Patrick Bateman.

* DO While you can call your local radio stations for news on school cancellations. DON’T call the elementary school to request Foghat.

DO invite your significant other over to spend your snow day sipping hot chocolate and watching movies in your pajamas. DON’T force her/him to watch Hellboy II, and then after she/he doesn’t like it, berate her/him for not fully appreciating the dramatic quality of the Hellboy series. Also, DON’T crumble a Snickers bar into a mug of warm water and call it  Swiss Miss.

* DO feel free to spend the day in your pajamas. If they’re pajamas with feet, DON’T expect to ever get laid.

* DO watch the Weather Channel for frequent updates; DON’T start dropping meteorology lingo into everyday conversations. Like: Excuse me, waiter? I understand that the chef must be feeling a lot of barometric pressure on a busy night like this, but can I get salmon that isn’t half-cooked? Also when you come back I will explain what a jet stream is.

* DO work from home and treat your living room as if it was your work space. If you get snowed in at work, DON’T sit at your desk eating Honey Nut Cheerios with no pants on.

* DO dress comfortably and wear long johns and sweatpants. DON’T use it as an excuse to break out your flannel assless chaps.

* DO put salt on the sidewalk in front of your house. DON’T throw it into the eyes of your opponent. Note: This advice applies to Mr. Fuji only.

* DON’T take the day off of work, drink excessively, and dive naked into the snow, proclaiming yourself as “King of the Arctic.”

There is no DO that goes with that one.