Kevin Durant at the Movies

Kevin Durant is a man of many talents. Not only is he the most promising and, arguably, most exciting young player in the National Basketball Association, he’s also a pretty good film critic.

For the past few days, in between hours-long practices and work out sessions, Durant has been watching DVDs during his downtime, tweeting his by-the-minute commentary. Most recently, he screened "Obsessed," Beyonce’s broken-down star-making vehicle, and J.J. Abrams’ "Star Trek," which, given its November DVD release date, must be a bootleg or an advance copy or something.

Here are some of Durant’s more trenchant reactions to "Obesessed":

Man if I have a wife and we arguing and she say ‘get out my house’ ima laugh and ask her is she high lol…pleaaassseee.

Ladies don’t try n be like beyonce cuz the fellas will flip and kick yo a** out lol.

Moment of truth.

Lol beyonce got a big a** head..cuz she head butted da mess out that girl..I woulda been outtaaa dere…my scalp woulda been bruised.

While Durant clearly had a lot to say about Obsessed, in comparison, he wasn’t particularly taken with the latest incarnation of the Star Trek franchise. Or should I say enterprise? I get confused. Still, Durant did manage to bang out a few keepers, and raise a number of somewhat interesting if somewhat curious points.

If you ship run outta gas n space…where would you refuel at?

Good question, Kevin.

Zoe saldana is beautiful…nice smile.

Yes, she is. 

Spock as a little kid would beat da hell outta mcauley caulkin in home alone.

Highly illogical.

Dirty blond to redhead and back again. Don’t worry, Kirk’s still a natural dickhead underneath.

Sorry, that last line is from Anthony Lane’s "New Yorker" review of the film. You get the point, though. 

No word yet on which movie Durant plans on watching next? Here’s hoping he gets his hands on an early copy of "Julia & Julia." I can't wait to read what he has to say about Nora Ephron.

HankStein

I'm a big fan of fake Twitter accounts. They're about a thousand times more entertaining and illuminating than regular accounts, which, as far as I can tell, are simply 140-character exercises in self-indulgence. YesMichaelKay, for instance, does a great job of tearing apart Yankees broadcaster Michael Kay's annoying verbal tics. ("Hey fans! Don't expect me on day games after night games. That's the fallacy of the predetermined past a diving wormburner etiquette see ya.") 

But YesMichaelKay doesn't even come close to the genius posing as Hank Steinbrenner, son of George. HankStein is an almost pitch-perfect impression of the loud-mouthed and clueless co-owner of the Yankees. In between Marlboro Reds, Hank likes to talk to the media in clipped sentences about the insignificant goings-on within his own head. Take for instance, this little nugget Hank shared with the Daily News about interleague rules.  

I just think it's time the NL joined the 21st century. The AL, the minors, colleges, high schools, they all have DHs.

I mean, really, Hank might as well have posted this drivel on Twitter, a more appropriate forum for such verbal diarrhea. Which is why HankStein is so brilliant. It distills Hank's moxy down to its nicotine-stained essence, and delivers it straight, minus the porous filter that is the New York Yankess PR department. Take the bio, for one: "I own the Yankees. I like cigarettes." Those 102 characters perfectly sum up George's oldest son. I could spend six solid months trying to come up with a more fitting epigram, and couldn't top it. Not even close. It's like a Buddhist koan in its simplicity. 

Here are some of my favorite HankStein tweets, in all their comedic glory: 

• I love a win streak almost as much as I love 72% lean ground beef.
  
• Hey John Henry? Let's settle this like men. A case of Chivas, 2 cartons of Camel unfiltered, a yardstick & a taser. Your place or mine geek?
  
• Joba needs to get his groove back. I suggest some Crown Royal and the nearest strip club. Too much clean livin' makes the boy dull.
  
• In all seriousness, I won't fire Girardi. Hal won't let me. I owe him ever since he made that mistake disappear for me in the Vegas desert
  
• I could think of a lot better ways to blow 210 mill. Thailand for one. With that kind of scratch, they'd make me king.

At this point, it's impossible for me to imagine the real Hank Steinbrenner comporting himself in any other way. It's like the fake Hank has become, at least to me, more relevant than his real-life counterpart. He's like a tougher version of Marge Schott, and a hell of a lot more entertaining.