i agree that he deserves more credit. no one could have played William Bonney better. 'cept Andrew McCarthy…Rob Lowe…Bradley Cooper, Donal Logue, Tilda Swinton, the cast of Glee, your 2011 Texas Rangers, the new Ford Econoline, and Bob Dylan.

well try watching 'Maximum Overdrive' again, reappraise, dole out credit accordingly, and become duly absorbed into the incorporeal hivemind that is the Emilio fanship.

well try watching 'Maximum Overdrive' again, reappraise, dole out credit accordingly, and become duly absorbed into the incorporeal hivemind that is the Emilio fanship.

I suppose if I had been to iceland and had that fetid shark-fat delicacy thing that i've seen on youtube foisted upon me, i'd be a wellspring of resentment and would gladly root for emilio to humiliate them on the rink.
Evel, i think you have a winner of an idea on your hands there. perhaps the film could end with both…

I suppose if I had been to iceland and had that fetid shark-fat delicacy thing that i've seen on youtube foisted upon me, i'd be a wellspring of resentment and would gladly root for emilio to humiliate them on the rink.
Evel, i think you have a winner of an idea on your hands there. perhaps the film could end with both…

I haven't, to my recollection, seen the whole of any of these films, but it seems kinda mean-spirited for the U.S. to beat up on poor little Iceland in any sort of sporting event. is that progressive, miniscule country of 200k souls represented as like an ivan drago figure? what a sham.

I haven't, to my recollection, seen the whole of any of these films, but it seems kinda mean-spirited for the U.S. to beat up on poor little Iceland in any sort of sporting event. is that progressive, miniscule country of 200k souls represented as like an ivan drago figure? what a sham.

I've not seen TreeOfLife yet, but Cate Blanchett looks quite fetching dressed up in pseudo-velociraptor prostheses.

such a dour bag of potatoes, and yet still just as huggable.

wait, what is impractical about getting pregnant at the Field Museum? don't they have a proper Anthropololological Mating Habits display that you find mesocoitally instructive?

yeah its a very consonant little piece of pitpat, the intro song…it kind of induces a pleasant brainwave state in me sorta like that ambient music radio station where you can hear long-dead astronauts vainly hailing their firstborn daughters on tin-can field radios in the background. macabre, maybe, but not altogether…

that reminds me though of how many great roles Alec had in that era: Jimmy Swaggart in GBOF, Bespectacled Specter in Beetlejuice, that suave italianate masterpiece of coiffure in Married to tha Mobbbb, and that one with Jenn Jason-Leigh and Fred Ward's dentures, sheeyit, what a great run he had only to be relegated to…

man i thought that was a scene from Great Balls of Fire; all those eighties movies i haven't seen since mmmy stupid noggin was an overripe fontanellle pincushion are sloshing together in the accelerated decrepitude of age as i inch closer to outlasting alexander the great in years lived, not civilizations brought to…

a terrifying dystopia full of fertile lesbians und bearchildren? berserkids! berserkerkids who are staunchly pro-state and probably patrol whatever that society's equivalent of the berlin wall is with enormous red-eyed, betrousered rottweillers snarling at their sides?
this movie is sounding more exceptionally…

don't listen to the negative critics; keep pouring forth your soul and evoking images of captain caveman's dinner party.
if you fed this poetry into the ear of a dumb hunk of a fireman and let him shout it at emma stone's breakfast nook window in a forlorn attempt to woo her, i'd say you'd have an equal chance of…

So she's an anti-dentite even after dating Paul Simon? For shame.
Sounds interesting, but I'll wait for the televisual production thing.

its no metaphor, this actually happened to michael keaton.

and of course Hots of Dogness: the downtown Minneapolis tubular-luncheon-meat-stand which offers spectacularly engorging bunwhiches and such

Layla means "night" in Arabic, which is significant because that is the window of sunlessness-time during which many adulterous encounters occur, which is to say one must not have light to make copulations.

The endless stream of cocktail waitresses tends to leave quite a helpful spoor when one is tracking a member of their species through thick underbrush.