The definition of "entertainment" is getting so stretched that it's past the Silly Putty breaking point, people!

Come on. We all know this "script" is a collection of ideas for District 10 that Neil Blomkamp scratched out on butcher paper while he was drunk. The guy who stole the Breaking Bad script probably swiped this paper, too, and managed to sell it to Emmerich before he got arrested.

The first R-rated movie I was able to pay to see in a theater was… a sneak peek of Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back. There's a metaphor in there somewhere, I just know it.

I heard they were talking about a Mad Hatter spinoff, due to some vague "positive response" the audience had to Sebastian Stan, even though he's committed to Bucky-ing it up on the big screen, and they'd have to recast the part. They were still excited to get working on it, though.

I was waiting the whole time for him to ask her about 'New Warden,' and… nothing.

So, you're saying Watterson, on his deathbed, needs to sign over the rights to someone who'll protect it until their dying day (I volunteer), or we need a Death Wish-type vigilante to go after said license company representative vultures  (and again, I'd probably volunteer for that, too)?

Only if next Samuel L. Jackson can bring John Shaft out of retirement for a crossover movie.

It is all I am programmed to do.

There were four Ghostbusters, goddammit, and, "Tell him about the Twinkie," is one of the funniest lines in the movie.

Yeah, that was fine, but if we could stop it with the Calvin & Hobbes adaptations/continuations/ripoff bullshit, that would be even better.

Does the dragon belong to both Petes, or does Pete get kidnapped, forcing Pete and Pete's dragon to go on a cross-country adventure to get him back from Fred Hurley and the Hemorrhoid Gang?

Watching that episode where Homer played "Margerine" honestly ranks pretty high up in my pantheon of melancholy TV memories. Obviously, the salad days of the show had long since passed, but in going so far out of its way to shit on some great moments in its own history, as well as my beloved grunge rock by way of……

Hey, now, the Internet has not made my job obsolete, thank you very much. If anything, it's emphasized how valuable I really am.

Aliens come to Earth, pick up some dinosaur eggs. The dinosaurs hatch, and thanks to some [implausible science] conditions on the ship, they grow super-fast, and become insanely aggressive. The dinosaurs kill most, if not all, of the aliens.

If Clevinger gets to do a stealth rewrite of the script.

I was thinking Sally Jupiter, actually.

You know, if Rob Thomas and Kristen Bell just made a movie about a slightly different girl detective all grown up, I'd wager exactly the same number of people would care, and Warners wouldn't have to be involved at all.

Sure, because when your characters are called the Fantastic Four, you really want to take a grounded approach to telling their stories.

Edith would finally find her calling in taking care of Bronx!

I thought that was only applicable when you run over your captain's foot in your patrol car?