I finally got around to watching Generation Kill. In true David Simon fashion, I started it years ago, inmediately got sidetracked, and now wish I hadn’t because it’s incredible and I could have been re-watching it this time soaking up new details instead of just getting the surface level.

The opinions of those who hate Mad Men can be safely discounted. 

KRUSTYLAND can finally become a reality!

Rumpelstiltskin first trades two huge piles of gold for a necklace and a baby.

They should have done this. It’s about as viable as what they were doing already. Plus, I’d gladly pay a surcharge to be able to pretend, if only for a couple hours, to be the last man on earth. 

You know how people are always making New Year’s resolutions to go to the movies more. They go once or twice, but by Valentine’s day, they’re back at home reading periodicals. 

Yeah, last weekend was when I cancelled my subscription. They wanted $4 surcharge to see Jurassic World (which was in its fourth weekend) for a Sunday afternoon showing at a movie theater where tickets are only $8 anyway, and I have never seen a sellout. (Not joking—I saw TFA there Saturday night opening weekend and…

I stopped believin’ a long time ago, and O’Neal leaving only confirms that it was the right decision.

There were times you could tell, just from the headline, that it was O’Neal and it was going to be good.

I didn’t realize how often people ring the doorbell in The Simpsons, especially in the first few seasons, until I watched it with my dog and she lost her damn mind every time and would run and bark at the front door. (We worked through it and she doesn’t do that any more.)

I wasn’t that crazy about the Wesley Snipes arc the first time I watched it. But after re-watching it for the first time in my 30s and still single, something about “settling soulmates” really hit home with me.

I burned out and was on my way to drinking myself to an absurdly early grave and had to give it up. Barring some percocet in the last couple weeks after a hand surgery, I haven’t had intoxicants of any sort in almost six years.

Which one’s Pink?

Cowboy pictures are out. I keep waiting for them to make that wrestling picture.

They are co-Coens. 

Johnny, you tell those HBO cocksuckers, my shadow grows any longer—no matter how imperceptibly—before work starts on this Deadwood movie, Wu’s pigs’ll get so damn fat on the pustulous flesh of dithering TV executives we’ll have to rent a goddamn mule train to haul the fat fucks to Spearfish to compete in the fattest…

Hang dai!

Early rising! Exercise! Dancing! Crowds! Dress codes!

Children should be forced to fight to the death for our entertainment, to winnow out the feeble, and the survivors forced to scrub the inside of smokestacks at coal-fired power plants.

Maybe he’d die.