The Jenkins scene sounds an awful lot like Saul Rubinek's monologue about the incident that led him to AA in JULIA. Terrific scene, terrific movie.

The Jenkins scene sounds an awful lot like Saul Rubinek's monologue about the incident that led him to AA in JULIA. Terrific scene, terrific movie.

DRUGS. OFTEN THE INTRODUCTION COMES IN THE FORM OF A GOOFBALL.

DRUGS. OFTEN THE INTRODUCTION COMES IN THE FORM OF A GOOFBALL.

I can't wait for this year's tide of pointless grumbling from people who'd rather look at a letter grade instead of reading the fucking review.

Well, to be fair, this would have played in some of the less savory theaters on 42nd Street… so you never know. There may have been rape in the audience.

Saw this a couple years ago and really liked it. I was hoping you'd mention the film's thorniest, meanest aspect - the whole business with the Peeping Tom passer-by on the train. The thematics involving Meril give it weight, but the random, pointed ensnaring of the audience in our own spectatorship is what truly stung…

I, uh… I skipped that one. Figured it was for the best to do so.

Or, you know, most of the Touch and Go-era Surfers stuff.

As one who finds himself unaccountably attracted to the abrasive… well, here. I offer these two tracks as suggestions, and there's more where that came from:

Hell yeah. If the Refn is half as good, I'll be happy. "I'd rock your uvula!"

Having read the book, I can confirm that he didn't tell you shit. Suck it up, chief.

All in all…
I think I'd rather watch MARRY FUCK KILL. Julia Roberts would not fulfill any of those three roles.

DOWN ON THE UPSIDE has "Ty Cobb." That makes it automatically unassailable. Even if the rest of the album was 60 minutes of Chris Cornell snoring, "Ty Cobb" would redeem it.

Goddammit, you're all wrong - Tad was and still is the best band to come out of Seattle then. Let SALT LICK blow your ears off and tell me I'm wrong.

…You know something? You're right.

I generally dislike Sandler's films, but…
I fucking adore this one. Call me lowbrow all you want, but it makes me giggle like nothing else he's done. I think it's because, with most of his films, you have to wait out the formulaic nonsense to get the random bits of hysterical weirdness (like the giant baby head in THE…

Peanut butter always does the trick. Especially if you're lonely and you have a German shepherd handy… but I digress.

The idea of the cock-ring warehouse is funny enough, but it's Bob's pitch-perfect voiceover that sells it - it's that local-business mixture of apathy and faux-enthusiasm ("The Brat!") that kills.

Fuckin' A, man.
RIP, dude.