Yes, I understand he's also a chef — I really wouldn't know. I do know no one has done more to promote vernacular American cuisine of every seemingly every variety that Mr. Convertible Frosted Tips. Tell me you _ever_ change the channel whenever Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives comes on. Viva Fieri!

Season of the Witch, originally released as Jack's Wife, is decidedly imperfect, but also heartfelt and often painfully sad as the protagonist has no real confidants and embraces witchcraft almost as a drowning person would the single life preserver on offer — in this emotional dynamic, it's a close relation to…

Eno's non-musician spazz-synth workout on "Paw Paw Negro Blowtorch." Duh.

He apparently improvised the "Navajo mud toy" line — Jarmusch isn't exactly known for letting his actors improvise, so further evidence of Henriksen-as-badass.

Christ Almighty, Prometheus was complete fucking garbage, so this is too close regardless. Unless, you know, you choose to believe and/or used to masturbate to Richard Corben's Den.

Is there a way we can get the A.V. Club to institute a policy for Random Roles whereby, if an actor appeared in a film directed by Abel Ferrara (as TK did in Body Snatchers), s/he has to be asked about it here? Fly Away Home, Jesus….hell's the matter with you???

Yes, you harmed me immeasurably — sorry for being so withholding, it was just all this pain I'm suffering through as a result of your trenchant observations. As for commenting for the first time in eight months, it's because I have a life. Log out of Instagram and try it some time.

Stay exceptional and keep assuming — maybe, someday, you'll be right about something.

You seem to be in a hurry to judge how other retirees like Mr. MacKaye spend their time, so, very obviously ("v. obv."?), there was a presumption of active harm. Unless you don't mean the things you say, or haven't thought them through.

Or criticizing technological fetishisation — oh, wait, sorry, was Ian MacKaye actively harming you with his accurate observations?

How thoughtful of you to provide a ridiculously facile, nuance-free riposte. You can't possibly think that, because we're discussing the perils of technologically-fueled narcissism via technology, those critiques are somehow invalidated? Perhaps, because the same society that gave us technology gave us airborne…

Likewise, I am most sure.

You'll never rock as hard as Fugazi with a fucking "mobile device". These assertions are entirely correct:

"Much like Glenn Danzig"??????

"(Costner’s ham-fisted speech to the Merry Men about color and creed, though? Ugh. He should never be counted on to deliver long blocks of “sincere” dialogue.)"

Ummmm…Harrad Experiment? Return to Macon County with Mr. Nolte? Freakin' A Boy and His Dog??? Sheeesh….