Nothing personal, friend.  It was The Stones, after all.  I simply had no other recourse.

Never really got The Beatles in the first place.  My first exposure to them was in the form of elevator Muzak at the local JC Penney.  Now, The Stones on the other hand…whenever I hear "Gimme Shelter" I just want go outside, find a random stranger, put my cigarette out on his eyeball, and see what happens.

Well played, sir.  You are indeed a worthy foe.

Fitzgerald would immediately get his lily ass stomped in that fistfight.  Hemingway would probably be the crowd favorite, what with his big manly posturing & all.  But I think Faulkner would just down a shot of bourbon, drunkenly whip out a pistol, and shoot Ernie in the throat (and probably several spectators as…

Oh yeah, Faulkner will mind-fuck you.  I normally dismiss such artists, who seem to think that simply stacking weird on top of more weird makes their work "unique" or "groundbreaking" (looking at you, Gabriel Garcia Marquez).  However, Faulkner actually could write.  His short stories are generally enjoyable, and he…

Heh.  One of my writing professors (a Faulkner junkie, surprise surprise), challenged us to write two 250-word sentences, a task which I achieved with a modicum of success; the exercise gave me a profound appreciation for the versatility of the semicolon, as— given the reader's interpretation of its…

I pretty much had a love affair with Faulkner in my college days, and "As I Lay Dying" was one of my favorites.  His all-time best, however, was "Sanctuary".  To this day I'm not entirely comfortable eating an ear of corn.

I've listened to a few of the old radio serials.  Ewww.  Let's just say that people were much more easily entertained in the 1930's.

Brevity is a virtue.

You are waaaayyyy off on this one my friend.  Frank Miller— despite his later transgressions— has a free pass to go fuck my sister for "The Dark Knight Returns".  Batman beating the piss out of right-wing tool Superman was one of the most satisfying comic books ever

I've run into him in San Diego a couple of times.  Seemed like a very pleasant man.  It's hard to imagine him as the guy screaming through my headphones in the 7th grade that he was "gonna force you at gunpoint to EAT ME ALIVE!!!"

The names "Apatow" "Rogen" and "Rudd" are the proverbial garlic to my inner vampire.  This is a new low, even for The Simpsons.  They should just finish driving the stake through my heart with a "Breaking Bad" parody.

We all know what this leading to: A show about professional porn stars coaching c-list celebrities to perform more & more extreme sex scenes.  Hopefully, one of the Real Housewives will end up doing a really juicy ATM, or that guy from Sugar Ray will get nailed with a strap-on.

I prefer to smear blood & feces on them.  If I have enough time to prepare, I'll also slap a gay pride bumper sticker on the trailer hitch.  The effect is much more lasting.  (I also carry a few NRA stickers for whenever I see a Prius parked with one of those stupid "Coexist" stickers).

Ayuh.  Y'cahn't get there from heeah.  (Yeah, that's a Maine accent; people often interchange it with the Boston inflections.  Two completely different things.  As most Mainers refer to vacationing Bostonians as "Massholes", they tend to take offense to this.  Bostonians, please take this into consideration the next…

There was once a brewery out of Boston called Harpoon that made one of the tastiest ales ever, and I haven't been able to find it since around '98.  I can still find Maine's pride & joy, Shipyard Export Ale, here in California, but the shipping process seems to diminish the flavor.  Likewise with Britain's Old…

You know who's to blame for this, right?  Women.  They were probably terrorizing the goodhearted studio execs day & night, chasing them around with rolling pins and menstruating everywhere.  Harpies.

Right on, HELP ME.  This was back in the Geddy's era, home of the $1 pitchers of Schaeffer's on Thirsty Thursday.  I made the poor choice of choosing the Friday morning Bio lab, which is the primary reason I downgraded my major from pre-med to psychology.

Lewiston, dude.  I managed to avoid that shithole for years, but what little I saw of it made Bangor look like San Francisco.

Glock Spyderco: Secret Investigator
Colt Mauser: Special Victims P.I.
Bushmaster Springfield: Angel of The Night
(This thread fits perfectly with my fantasy of being one of the writers for MST's "Space Mutiny")