I'm aware, I'm just trying to find an appropriate metric.

Eh, the man's nothing without Miessner and Wheeler. (Joke, joke. Jeez, guys.)

Just like the use of "books," we'll have to assume.

I saw Aaron Eckhart on a news show pimping this, along with the rest of the cast. I was surprised at this, and I was even more surprised to see that the news anchor was deferentially lobbing most of his softballs at Gerard Butler, as though Butler were the real actor on set. After seeing In the Company of Men and Your…

Possibilities here: @avclub-d6eadece4ff78746d933232818ee5e69:disqus 
a) is a woman, subcategory non-promiscuous;
b) is a man, of giant dong;
c) is of either gender, but only has sex experience via porn. 
If it's d) all of the above, I'll eat my hat.

Shut it, ye New York wanker!

@avclub-501c54d131c3b93043a744af0c259c58:disqus I heard that he also was trying to deny the existence of a guide to arcade games he wrote concurrently with Money, though a hardcover of The Pregnant Widow I picked up at the library has Invasion of the Space Invaders listed among his affects. An interesting article on…

O boy, and all those misuses of "was" for "were" when poets are pining in the subjunctive mood! Is there no end to this bullshit?

That book's takedown of Brian de Palma is one of the loveliest, nastiest pieces of writing I've had the chance to read. Ditto on the self-absorbed narcissism of Phillip Roth, Joan Didion, Jerry Falwell. Amis is a genius of hate. The only real stinkers in the collection are on his love of Bellow, which is boring—Amis…

"Crazy, Stupid, Love" pisses me off every time I think of punctuation.

We "see" things at Dead concerts, but live to wonder "saw"?

The surprise here is probably registered on account of Brokeback Mountain being, for many AV Club visitors, "that movie where Anne Hathaway shows her bewbs".

Phillip Roth: The Plot Against His Life as a Great American Pastoral; or Goodbye, Portony; aka The Breast Unbound.

@avclub-3b46011f02d5433da38083fdbd33d31e:disqus I visited Vegas last weekend. It wasn't until the end of the trip, when I went back to my car on the rooftop of the Flamingo, that I realised the human shit I'd inadvertently tracked all around the city (only seeing the wild brown smear aside my shoe around 1:30 a.m.)…

I'm just wondering: how are the winners chosen? On that old one for Jack Reacher, wasn't the far-and-away winner, in number of likes (as well as wit, etc.) one about how the image looked uncannily like Tom Cruise giving another dude bilateral jerk-off lessons in a dark alley? Don't seem to remember that one winning,…

Husserl, how you've changed!

Edit: Cardboard cutouts are more convincing…than…characters in Michael Bay movies.

It probably also depends if you like the characters or not. I find them pleasant to be around, with their ridiculously cushy jobs and effete sense of 1st-world largess, though it's not hard to see why some people might not want to hang with these twerps.

Luckily, there's no real way to be crude about this.

Yeah, 4 hours later.