WGTC Weekly Throwdown: Which Celebrity’s House Would Make The Best Apocalyptic Hideout?

thisistheend WGTC Weekly Throwdown: Which Celebritys House Would Make The Best Apocalyptic Hideout?

Arguments – they’re part of life. We’re all competitive beasts, never wanting to admit fault or defeat, and will go to great lengths when defending our honor when challenged or threatened. Arguments have started wars, shattered relationships, broken families, declared victors, but have also awarded respect. A win will always be a win, but longstanding respect and admitted defeat are far greater trophies than another tally mark on a record sheet somewhere. That’s where our story begins for this group of alcohol swigging, loud mouthed master-debaters (had to make that joke once, c’mon!), connected by our love of whiskey, which is only overpowered by our love for all things pop culture – cinema, music, television, gaming, you name it. Inebriation and verbal assaulting, how could this go wrong?!

Needless to say, all we do now is argue about pop culture and hot topics of the day. Despite sounding like the grunts and groans of a pack of psychopaths, we decided to translate our debates into a readable affair. This means that every few weeks or so, we will be posting our thoughts on upcoming releases and pop culture in general. Since agreeing is for peace-loving hippies, our arguments will be broken up into two sides, and the winner is decided by the readers. Yes, our fates are in your hands!

Before we begin though, allow us to introduce ourselves.

Rob: Born on December 2, 1978, in Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, his Portuguese parents, Maria Manuela and António José Furtado, were emigrants from the Azores, both from São Miguel Island. They emigrated to Canada in the late 1960s. He was named for Soviet gymnast Robbie Kim. His siblings are Michael Anthony and Lisa Anne, and they were raised Roman Catholic. At age four, he began performing and singing in Portuguese. Rob’s first public performance was when he sang a duet with her mother at a church on Portugal Day. He began playing musical instruments at the age of nine, learning the trombone, ukulele and – in later years – the guitar and keyboards. At the age of 12, he began writing songs, and as a teenager, he performed in a Portuguese marching band. He has acknowledged his family as the source of his strong work ethic; he spent eight summers working as a chambermaid with his mother, along with his brother and sister, who was a housekeeper in Victoria. He has stated that coming from a working-class background has shaped his identity in a positive way. Also violent movies and video games.

Gem: Gem has lived the secluded life of an academic, dedicated to a better understanding of critical analysis. Emerging from five years struggling to insert page numbers into Word, Gem indulged in the world of film to satiate her creative side – from which burst the need to obliterate those who do not agree with her inane, profane ranting. Her most critically acclaimed debate was executed at this year’s Comic Con when she swayed a crowd of riotous nerds into agreeing that yes, a coat rack could defeat Wolverine. The opposition doesn’t stand a chance.

Nato: Traveling back in time from a dystopian universe where pop culture debates are a game of life and death, Nato (formerly Natobombious Kick-Assious) continues to extend his unbeaten streak against the competition he now sees in three (barely) functioning alcoholics who devour useless entertainment factoids like the bottles of Jack taped to their hands. Matt can make a case for anything, but enjoys the new challenge of debate through writing, disabling his hypnotically enchanting “hair-flip” closing visual, typically bringing competition to their knees with one swiftly punctuated “swoosh.” Who needs a closing argument when you have great hair? You’re about to witness the great lengths he’s willing to go and mighty stretches he’s willing to make, abandoning all notions of self-respect just to deliver the most convincing arguments conceivable. A pop-culture chameleon, Nato can do it all. We promise we’ll do our best to contain him, but it might be too late already…

Alex: Formed from the recovered DNA of Stephen A. Douglas, Ben Franklin, and Socrates, Alex is an unstoppable force in an argument. Basically every epic speech in every courtroom movie/TV show ever was copied verbatim from arguments Alex has made. If the world listened to his points on abortion, gay marriage, or America’s healthcare system, all people would finally be in agreement. But why waste his talents on such minutia? It’s the world of the media that sparks the fiercest debates, and thus his fiercest opinions. But just because he’s such an eloquent debater in person doesn’t mean that doesn’t translate into his writing. Some argue the pen is mightier than the sword. Well Alex doesn’t write with a pen, he uses a sword to slice paper into the words that crush those who disagree. Whoever opposes him ought to fear for not only their dignity, but their safety as well.

Today’s Argument: Which Celebrity’s House Would Make The Best Apocalyptic Hideout?

In case you hadn’t noticed, Hollywood’s got a big bump in its shorts over the apocalypse. The last few years have proven that Tinseltown’s macabre fascination with our planet’s demise is not diminishing. We all figured Lars Von Trier’s Melancholia would be enough. Enough! But no, that misery fest has only spurred on other filmmakers to make their thoughts known on the good old End Of The World. The release of This Is The End has got us lot thinking; if the apocalypse does happen, which celebrity’s house would we want to hide out in? You’d need shelter, food and obviously a wide array of entertainment. Read on for our top pads for riding out the rapture…


Matt: Ted Nugent’s House

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It’s the rapture. Hell is taking over Earth, the innocent have been whisked up to heaven, and you’re stuck on Earth while the Devil rapes the rest of the tormented souls God rejected. Sounds like fun, right? Of course! But what do you do in this situation? If movies recent movies have taught us anything about the rapture (This Is The End), it’s that in the case of an apocalyptic takeover, you should find the nearest celebrities house and seek refuge. But with so many celebrities out there, which one do you shack up with? Ha, that’s an easy one. Hailing from Detroit Rock City is the number one rapture buddy around. That’s right, the Motor City Madman himself, Ted “The Nuge” Nugent.

Why would I run to this insane, right-wing, gun-loving lunatic? Well, besides those reasons, he’s Ted f@cking Nugent. This is the man who rocked our faced off with songs like ‘Cat Scratch Fever,’ ‘Great White Buffalo,’ ‘Wango Tango,’ and ‘Stranglehold.’ A man who would literally rock audiences into submission with high flying stage antics, and then party his face off backstage. This man would literally be made of stories, and what better way to pass the rapture than to sit down with “The Nuge” and hear about his insane nights that no doubt included hookers and ammunition? Plus, when he’s not telling stories, you can just rock out with your cock out playing backup for Ted in the greatest garage band of all time.

So why else would I pick Ted? Well, as I mentioned, the dude is an avid hunter and total gun nut, so I can only imagine the armory this guy has stockpiled in a bunker somewhere. Whether I’d want to get my Daryl Dixon on with a crossbow or blow the shit out of some demons with a rocket launcher (which I can only assume he illegally owns), retreating to the fortress of Nuge-itute would provide unparalleled safety just from having Uncle Ted guarding the entrances and exits. I could soundly wail away on one of Ted’s signature guitars while he mows down any intruders who may want to tango.

Sure, the man is no doubt clinically insane, but he’s like some crazy cartoon character come to life, and that sounds way to damn fun in the rapture. Take me to a Nugent ranch and let me life out the rapture in peace, I say. And of course by in peace, I mean roaming around Nugent’s land with a loaded shotgun and a heavily armed Ted, hunting down Satan’s demons for fun. I bed Uncle Ted has plenty of room for the stuffed head of some winged beast on his mantle. Wouldn’t that be one hell of a conversation started? Oh wait, you wouldn’t need one, because you’re talking to Ted f#cking Nugent. RB4L! (Rapture Buddies For Life…duh!)

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Alex: Bill Murray’s House

billmurray 541x360 WGTC Weekly Throwdown: Which Celebritys House Would Make The Best Apocalyptic Hideout?
Faced with the ever-so-dire situation of being stuck in an apocalypse, and most likely a zombie apocalypse, I would definitely have to find someplace to hide out. I’m not the sort of survivor who would be able to stay on the run, at least mentally. I’d need a place to call my home, to store up supplies, and likely I’d want some people there to defend it with me. Now in such a situation most people are likely going to be dead. That’s just the way it goes. But I’m sure I’d be able to find some badass zombie killer, a girl I’d get a huge crush on, and her sister, or something like that, to stay on the run with. So we’d be faced with the huge decision of where to park our Hummer. The place I’d want to park it? Bill Murray’s house.

I mean it’s got to be an awesome celebrity’s house. Someone who can be serious, but also knows how to have a good time. Someone, who if he was there, wouldn’t let it get lost in translation that we were trying to survive just as much as he was. When there, he’d likely want to rush more with some people than others. But that’s okay. Because he’s Bill effing Murray.

I think the only time we’d run into a problem is if we got separated in the house before meeting Mr. Murray. See, he’d probably be dressing as a zombie in order to maintain his current lifestyle. You know, go play golf, hit up Hollywood bowl with Eddie Van Halen, etc… But I hear Murray is a bit of a prankster. So he’d likely think it would be funny to sneak up on me in his zombie makeup, and you better bet if someone comes at me as a zombie, I’m gonna unload my firearm in their chest. If you’d do anything different, well you’d probably be dead by now.

But even after living with the guilt of killing one of my favorite actors ever, his house would still be an awesome place to hide out. He’s got a great movie theater, fully loaded with Ghostbusters (what other movie could you need?). He’s got all his old Ghostbusters uniforms, tons of couches to make forts out of, and he’s even got plenty of wine from 1997 that I can use to attempt to seduce the girl I’ve fallen head over heels for.

Yeah Bill Murray’s house would definitely be the place to be.

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Gem: Nicolas Cage’s House

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The apocalypse is a fate none of us want to face, after all, it means the end of the world as we know it. Moan as you will about the state of our planet, we’d all rather it was here than not. Should it happen, there’s one film star gaff I’d immediately head to for sanctuary: any of Nicolas Cage’s houses circa 2001 (In this scenario I also have access to a time machine. Hey, it’s my fantasy.)

Nicolas Cage has a lot to offer those of us in peril following the Rapture. First off, he’s madder than the Westboro Baptists outside a gay wedding. There’s no question that his unorthodox acting methods stem from a deep rooted personal interest in the bizarre. Why does that matter? Well, for starters, his homes are secured behind a wealth of security installations. In place to not only protect him from avid fans desperate for a glimpse at Castor Troy, but also to guard his private collections.

Two birds one stone. His mansion could provide shelter, food and protection from gannets after all they can salvage. Well, actually, I’d opt to spend some time in one of his THREE castles. I’ve always fancied settling in the window of a turret, with a glass of Bourbon so rare it’s only been sighted in the jungles of New Guinea while watching a flaming cityscape. My daydreams aside, it would most importantly offer more than enough treasures inside to keep you entertained for years. See, his abode is under strict lock and key due to his gargantuan comic book collection (which, he sold in 2002, hence specifying 2001.) His obsession with graphic stories extends so far his stage name Cage is adopted from the Marvel character Luke Cage, and he even named his son Kal-El. It’s safe to say his collection is not only vast but features a bunch of awesome first time introductions of well-loved icons. This is the kind of vault you could devote years to wandering through.

Where would you head next once you tire of endless reading and crave something else to distract you from the groans of the dying and wounded outside? Well to his Bel Air mansion and its display cabinets rammed full of weird artefacts. It’d be like hanging out in the museum of natural history….with Nicolas Cage as your batshit bonkers tour guide! Hanging out in the billiards room would afford me plenty of time to learn what billiards actually is, while hanging out in his 1955 Jaguar he has set up in it! Scattered around like most of scatter doilies and other useless shite are a genuine dinosaur skull he outbid Leonardo DiCaprio for and a collection of shrunken heads. I mean, if you’re witnessing the end of the world, it’s not a bad spot to learn a tad about culture while wearing fur-lined slippers (which I’m assuming he has for his guests upon entry.)

Of course, after boning up on history it’d be time to take to the garage and test drive one of his many vintage cars. What better way to tell the remnants of the world’s citizens that you’re a big hitter than cruising around an abandoned neighbourhood in a 1973 Triumph Spitfire?

Can you imagine kicking back in his swanky pad, film paraphernalia littering the walls, flicking through rare comic gems before taking a Jag for a drive through the detritus of the apocalypse? To be honest, it doesn’t matter if Cage is home or not. He could be off on a mission to bite the heads off the world’s remaining bat population…I’d be happy kicking back in that turret.

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Rob: A Scientology Centre With Tom Cruise

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Come the apocalypse, there’s only one place I’m heading to – wherever Tom Cruise is. If there’s one thing we all know for a fact, it’s that Tom Cruise does not play by our rules. When the endtimes arrive, he’s heading back to his home planet; and I intend to join him. The constant Cruise satellites that orbit the Earth, tracking the location of wherever Maverick happens to be, are a boon in times of Earth crisis. The aliens that fired him to Earth, Superman-style, can stand to carry a little more cargo when they whisk him off back to whichever planet he was blasted from – I intend to make myself that extra cargo.

Just how the hell would I do this? Simple. As soon as the first signs of the apocalypse hit – constant meteors, the oceans overflowing, ice caps appearing in my garden, planes falling from the sky – I pack up my belongings and move to LA. I quickly, and efficiently, open up a Scientology centre. Nothing too showy; ideal for the publicity-shy Tom Cruise. I staff the facility with Katie Holmes and Nicole Kidman-lookalikes, and give myself a Cruise-friendly name – Top Eyes Cock Scientology Centre, or something similarly subtle. Something only the former Frank TJ Mackey would get. I’d play the role of benevolent hypnotist; the role I was born to play – dye my beard grey, buy myself a pocket watch, speak with a German accent.

The Cruise honey trap is set.

When Tom arrives at the end of the world, seeking help from a benevolent hypnotist, I persuade him that I am necessary to his survival. He takes me to his home, which is actually a giant teleporter whose transportation signal is triangulated, and then used to locate Tom to allow easy teleportation into the space craft. I join him aboard his space ship, and as we watch the Earth die we sing songs and reminisce about our respective previous lives; mine as a young boy growing up in Bavaria, learning the craft of hypnotism and, in the process, losing all my friends; his as a preciously talented but completely insane alien worshipper, devoid of boundaries or morality. We’d live the rest our lives aboard said craft, unless we stumble across a human-friendly planet and spend the rest of our lives there.

The arguments have been made! Now it’s your turn, head to the comments section and let us know which celebrity’s gaff  you’d wanna spend the Apocalypse in.

And if you liked this Throwdown, maybe you’d like to check out one of our past arguments, such as What Is The Best Cinematic Violent Spree?

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