reality twists we'd like to see more of
characters getting snatched up and hogtied by fucking marauding post apocalyptic biker gangs never to be fucking seen again, like dr. george from the colony. not enough psychological trauma inflicted via kidnapping on real housewives. let's see these pampered fucks earn that…

let's not go blaming the iPad for this little oversight, bartleby. you're better than that.

the archmage is happier than a pig in shit.

my fantasy familiarity stops dead after tolkien, and a major reason for that is because every recommendation i've ever got has come with some form of "trust me, it's not like the rest of this fucking awful dreck out here" caveat. you nerds gotta learn the golden rule of anorakism: love means never having to say you're…

walter motherfucking hill. a true fucking cascade of mass murder and carnage.

except they did make a joke out of the girl saying she was "wicked stoned" or whatever the fuck highschoolese she used. holder chuckles and says "oh really?" the more you know, son.

y'all are overthinking this one. the kid wasn't looking for headlines, he was looking for dinner.

the professor is spot-on, as usual. ranking levels of suffering is a losers game.

this is a real win-win road we're going down with this debate. let's bring rabin in on this one and we can REALLY jump this thread off.

this shit is fucking oppressive. it's got that twin peaks pedigree inasmuch as you feel like the goddamn walls are closing in around you while you watch it. this show smells mildewy, and not just when holder's onscreen.

chronotrigger, son. box, poster, instruction book, all that shit. back in the 90s nintendo would just make up prices and shit like some out of control robber baron, so the game was close to ninety bucks brand new. thankfully, i didn't give a shit about my baseball cards anymore, so juan gonzalez and barry bonds paid…

this is the most trenchant and incisive policing of staff since leonard pissed off the whedonites. rabin, examine thyself.

robbie fulks would be… well, not proud. sardonic. robbie fulks would be sardonic.

fuck rolling papers. i'm a rebel, bitch, i'm ashin' blunts. free earl and fuck steve harvey, son. swag.

establishing shots of neck tattoos are never a good thing.

really impressed by how quickly and effortlessly the show tightened up after the broad strokes of the first 45 minutes. the hour+ between the reveals of the car and the cage felt razor sharp, which was as much a product of the restraint and deliberation with which the show is willing to unpack itself as it is any of…

one similarity that can't be overstated: this show is fucking sinister. drowned in a car trunk is officially the new wrapped in plastic.

admittedly, a hideous crime against quality footwear and, indeed, an affront to decent, right-thinking individuals everywhere. however, in the draconian world of "non-slip soles," the possession of which are strictly mandated in 99% of professional kitchens, sometimes compromises must be made. crocs, or more often the…

vehemently disagree. gail is an absolute redbone, i'm talking usda certified prime. you start using padma as hotness magnetic north, you're only cheating yourself.

foie gras' richness and fattiness, coupled with the variety of textures and consistencies it can be manipulated into, make it a pretty natural fit for desserts. sounds strange on the menu, but in practice it's much less confrontational. foie gras rice pudding was a big hit at our place last fall.