I've only heard the radio shows, but I do love Alan Partridge, a ha.
I've only heard the radio shows, but I do love Alan Partridge, a ha.
At the risk of lapsing into pedantism, Dickinson used hymn meter, which is also what The Yellow Rose of Texas uses.
Nice.
Nice.
Leto, what about a good novel by someone trying to make a buck? Like Burgess and Clockwork Orange?
Some publisher released the whole Edgar Rice Burroughs in paperback in the '60s, and they had terrific covers, very Frank Frazetta. And that was a lot of books, all the Tarzans, and John Carters, and the rest.
Someone ought to do a dissertation on the Work of Burroughs, E.R., and his time. There's something very…
Koontz is a pretty fast read, given that you can skip groups of pages without missing anything important.
"Important" in the sense of necessary to that particular book.
Anyone know if this is the right address? Anyone in Chi? ZMF?
Onion Inc.
212 W Superior St Ste 200
Chicago IL 60654
It's time to start sending in books.
I've read a couple of Koontz' books and hope never to read another.
Disregard anyone who tells you that the revolution starts with Ron Paul.
Ha. Bogart was in Sabrina, with Audrey Hepburn. Must have been your subconscious at work.
They have Hercule Poirot, and great chocolate.
Wasn't she supposed to be pregnant when he beat her up?
Mitchell was still playing Cody when he beat up his wife and went to jail, and he was replaced by some other actor, then the show went off.
I couldn't remember the name of the show—of course I know it now—but it had some good moments.
"It looks like Laura Ashley blew up in here." Love that one.
He got hung up elsewhere.
Produced by Omni Zoetrope. All these years, I thought Coppola was responsible. Oh, well.
Regardless, the ending is still screwed up. I saw this in a full theatre, and the audience reaction was unmistakable.
I have seen Kid Monk Baroni.
He's just released a new album recently, last few weeks or so.
The Black Stallion is nearly perfect. Pity that its biggest flaw comes in the horse race at the very end of the movie. What was Coppola thinking?