He has facts to say. Quite naturally, you find them unimportant.

Can't wait for the slow motion/fast motion/slow motion scene of Ben Franklin taking a bath.

Mike lives in the hell of doing something you're great at even though you hate it. People identify with that.

Indiana Jones and the Stool of Grape Nuts

This would be an excellent opportunity to bring back the Young Indiana Jones structural device of having old Indy (Harrison Ford) narrating an adventure from early in his career, dramatized by a younger actor (Chris Pratt, if there's any justice).

He looks like the love child of John De Lancie and Richard Nixon.

This church… this is not my kind of church.

Let's see, a billionaire with virtually political, economic, and social influence, vs. a vigilante in a rubber suit who intimidates people with kung fu and a monster truck.

I think they're spot on about that "out" sign and I think the way the scene is blocked doubles down on it. She's moving horizontally across a long, panoramic backdrop that the camera is viewing straight-on.

Counterpoint: He's a guy with a pointy nose and a top hat who talks like Frasier and says "waugh" a lot.

Know what we need to solve our city's rampant crime and untreated mental illness? More half-crazed billionaires hunting people in the streets and killing them with high-tech super karate.

Because that demands a level of intelligence that most writers aren't capable of.

Which one allows you to beat people up whenever you feel upset?

Fine. Wearing a weird costume and jumping around at night to beat on the low income youth, a severely mentally ill man, and a low-level gangster with terrible birth deformities.

Maybe he'll write in italics
Maybe he'll use purple crayon, too bold

I'm going to pull a you and state that I never said anything about misogyny, nor did I say I was talking about you specifically in the proceeding remark.

You invited the assumption by mentioning her apropos of nothing and citing one of the most popular talking points against her.

They did volunteer, and she did pay them. In real, actual money.

I feel like if Aunt May really existed, she'd be a lot more 10-pounds-of-shit-in-a-5-pound-bag and a lot less wheatcakes-and-needs-a-rare-antidote-every-other-issue.

It doesn't even matter if you can rationalize the intent of the humor. (And let's not. It was cheap and racist.) The fact is that they hired three children to come onstage just to be the butt of a joke. That is fucked up.