According to rumor, one's nails and beard continue to grow after death.  In Pat Robertson's case, he has been dead for more than a decade, yet still emits odd, speech-like sounds as the festering horror within putrifies and erupts.

Episodes like this, which are clearly among the best television ever, need a different mark entirely.

His whining and begging death was the most satisfying in the entire series: I wish it had gone on much longer, until he was literally seen shitting his jogging suit.

Yep.  And, as the initial comment mentioned, this was one ripe piece of hanging fruit that the series never chose to pick (which is still alright with me.)

That's the "Catholic" in her: believe whatever lies you were raised with, and pretend you either cannot see, or can forgive, the reality of those lies.

So, is Korn-backwards-K even a tithe as bad as the imaginary band "Nickelback" that people keep trying to make me believe COULD actually exist?

So, given the absurdity beyond any imagined of imagining Battleship as a movie, why haven't fucking Mouse Trap or Operation! already become franchises on the order of Shrek?

One of the greatest at doing whatever was asked of him.  I remember his interesting takes in Jimmy Stewert westerns even before Mash, and he was the only decent thing in that bit of Holy Cop shit that was Dragnet, besides the theme.

And a writer in the same way L. Ron is a writer!

The essence of everything anyone who was or can be described as "wise" suggests that what Rand exalts is the very ticket to a life lived in hell-on-earth: empty, useless, boring, and utterly unexamined or enjoyed.

I might not dismiss the claim immediately, but I'd need some convincing evidence before I'd allow even my most trusted roomate from staking anyone, even Dick Cheney or Vlad Putin (who really, if anyone ever has been, must be a vampire).

I dig your sentiment, and hope you, at least, will be allowed to enjoy these so-to-be-missed pleasures while I'll take 35mm.

My bestest pal, when we were 7th-graders, accidently saw "Bananas" as part of a double-feature where we were there for the lower half of the bill (which I can't quite recall, but may have been "Von Richthofen & Brown" of all things).  He looked and acted like someone whose personality floated in an eigenstate between…

[snoring continues as he has a mildly annoying dream about a particularly petty and obvious little shit of a troll]

I was there where they built the fucking thing, and I can report as an unimpeachable eyewitness, that the 70s synthrock they used was mixed - literally - from powered imitation dogshit.  The whole fucking city of San Francisco was, in the 1970s, built of unreinforced imitation powdered dogshit.

Here Lies Big Pussy

The negative whining about S5 and 6ab sounds EXACTLY the same as the whining about Buffy's last two seasons.

Pretty, pretty, PRETTY!

This movie cut a tunnel into 80's American suburbia and pumped pure weirdness at a rate never imagined by the already besieged forces of Reagan's time, who hadn't realized that they'd lost any chance of winning the culture wars.

Lobs, if for some reason you're waiting to eat shit and die, don't wait.