My reaction to your pedantic, tedious comment: zzzzzzzz…

No. Absolutely positively No!

Whatever it is they're doing they'd better stop!

I imagine the security is very tight in your media proofed secret film review lair.

My dates are usually quite knowledgeable on the Infield Fly Rule, unfortunately for me.

Alls I got is this lousy softball lady…

Bloop goes the micromite!

It's why they play the game.

No respect. I tell ya, I get no respect.

Blogs. Fucking blogs.

"Rather than significantly reducing Hannah Storm's role how 'bout significantly reducing her wardrobe?" - memo from Bill O'Reilly, which is odd considering he has no connection to ESPN, but I spoze that's just his style.

That's the Bullseye!

Indubitably.

What about Mike & Mike?!!

Sports? Sports?! Is that what we're talkin' about?! Sports?!!…

Married to the Mob: The Jared Kushner Story

What worked so well in Stop Making Sense did not work well, at all, in his other concert film, Neil Young: Heart of Gold. In the former when the camera wandered around it revealed wonderfully unexpected creativity and vitality among the other band members, backup singers, and even the crew. But when Demme chose to…

I must respectlessly disagree. They ratcheted up the fast paced rapid fire snarky dialog and pushed it into farce territory which actually works even better, to me. It's even more tasteless and depraved; qualities I highly value.

You're certainly not afraid of being pud-antic. Get it?! "Pud" antic. Because you have a pud nose!! Ha! Ha…

We got to the root of their dysfunction.