Saturday, August 1, 2009

And you all thought I was dead.

     Oh wowzer, so long without a post! I'm a failure of a blogger. Ha! That's terrible. Calling myself a 'failure of a blogger' is so stupid. It is not unlike comparing myself to the only graduate of Oxford who hasn't since become an actual saint because F.Y.I. there aren't that many. But I could also compare myself to the dumbest kid on the short bus. The one the other thicks make fun of. (They poke fun while their parents regret smoking grass during pregnancy or joining that 'expectant mothers only' soccer league that looked like so much fun. If you're catching my drift with that last one.) Either way it's not flattering.

     I should apologize to both people who read my shitty reviews and hope you'll look into your cholesterol encrusted hearts and give me another chance. (You should just look into your fatty ventricles in general because I care about your well-being too much.) I realize in the time it takes to read one of my articles and have an intelligent thought about it you could both in fact be viewing three or four photographs of a pornographic nature, (it IS the internet after all, dummy). But just think of how good the dirty pictures will look after you have to suffer in agony through ...

     I'll try to keep this brief. Typing with a bandaged hand is fairly difficult. I spent the last two hours laying the classiest beat-down on some teenagers outside my building. They were playing Pogs too loud and their glasses and retainers cut old righty up something fierce. Let's just say that when I'm done writing this and go to get my fill of dirty pictures I had better get used to the idea of pain for pleasure because band-aids chafe something fierce bitches. I'm sure President Dick is all but used to the sting of loneliness. I was referring to Nixon just there.

     The second Nixon of this past film season we will be looking at is so much funnier than Frank "I'd rather be getting punched in the spleen by Michael Sheen this guy is so boring" Langella. That's actually his legal name which is why I theorize he didn't win the Oscar for best supporting. It would have been way too long to print that on Hollywood's glorified bowling trophy.

      No my brothers and ... sisters? Do girls even use computers these days? Are they even permitted by law? I mean it's bad enough we allow them to vote and ride in airplanes, (with the pets of course) but what are we barbarians? Anywho, the second Nixon. 

      Played by comedy's greatest funny-man since Cab Calloway did black-face: Robert Wisden! I know, I haven't heard of him either and that name sounds like we should be reading about his back shed full of dead prostitutes on the front page but for reals, yo! He was a really funny Dick Nix!  

     Now if you've ever seen or read The Watchmen you'll know that it's not all a basket of roses. (You'll also know what it's like to not have sex which also is not all roses and sunshine like the Catholics would have you believe.) Gloom and doom go bang and zoom. That made no sense. But it was gloomy and doomy so it was very nice to have some comic relief in there. (Laughter is the best medicine since "Nev'r-Die". The over-the-counter, (hood of my, (TRIPLE FUCKING PARENTHESIS!!) car) tonic that staves off the cold fingers of death by ensuring that you'll NEVER fall asleep. You would be surprised how many truckers, crack-addicts and paramedics are buying these days. Looks like my ads in National Geographic and Gigantic Titties magazine are truly crushing it.)   

     Rorchaczxhc's was cracking wise throughout, the Blue Man Group did that really long naked cameo, (Heh, long) there was a pretty hilarious rape scene, (I was laughing) and lovable Richard Nixon was there too! Along for the ride. I mean he was adorable. He looked like a basset hound waiting for someone to smear potato salad between their toes so he could lick them clean before taking 1985 to Def-Con awesome-town. He looked like your old Grandpa who's forgotten who you are but is having tons-o-fun anyway because you have a pudding can and the time on your Timex digital doom-clock is five minutes to "pills o'clock". 

     This is why I'd like to award Robert Wisden and the film The Watchmen with JRBT's highest honour! Or Honor. Top Dick in movies, 2009! Congratulations you lovable old cook! We still love you.

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