And…why do you even comment then? Guess I can call you a "callous dickhead" if you call her a "real bitch". One adjective, one vowel…fair trade.

You got an opinion? Fine. Keep it the hell to yourself and don't publicize it if it's not really any of your goddam business. If you can't do that, take a moment and recognize you're really a judgmental troll…accent on "mental".

I don't know about that. The ending to Joanie Loves Chachi where the little punk got beat to death in an alley by the benzedrine-crazed hippies was pretty good. I especially thought urinating on his dying corpse was pretty hypersymbolic of the poetry of Rimbaud and its connection to the Weimar Republic. Or maybe…

And my hand is epoxied to the post.

I had a third grade teacher named Mrs. Gunther who coulda done that. Bitch be BAAAD.

She is, but be honest. You wanted to bring her down with an AK-47, man. Not sporting.

Count me as one of the citizens of the Untied Snakes who does not EVER want to be a fly on any wall near the West/Kardashian confederacy. Or on their shit. Corpses?…maybe.

Hemingway blew his brains out because he was afraid of the government??
I've always been told—since he did the act when I was a teen—that he did it because he (mistakenly and stupidly) thought he had cancer.
Are you telling me now that the government put that story out?

Did she become unbankable before or after the numbed-the-tits boob exposure for the paparazzi? Or when Craig Ferguson terminated the interview with her and took his show in a less-vapid direction? I've never been sure. It's like "is Certs a candy mint or a breath mint?", which is of course the question that cost…

I'm 66 and Dan's takedown of OLDER is a thing of beauty. Good work, young gay feller.

Could you PLEASE not mention that film? We try never to speak of it in the family. Great-grandpere regretted it more and more after the sixteenth through thirty-seventh takes.

You should have been the subject of "A Beautiful Mind", man or woman. (tho' I think you spelled 'torpedo' incorrectly)

In that picture he looks like Orson Welles' bastard son.
Lucky bastard.

Pack your piano and drop into Lake Mead instead. Work your way into town from there.

There is, indeed, much to be said for simple affection with your technology.

We do not discuss it with outsiders…

I have watched Blade Runner a number of times over the years—in theatre and on the tube—and personally, it has never been boring. Your expectation is for more action sequences? Sounds as if you went into it expecting something different than what it is. Go to a shoot-'em-up instead. B.R. is a drama and a character…

But what was the prize in your hamlet? In our neighborhood, we had to buy the winner a box of Cracker Jacks and he/she had to share. (Cracker Jacks had morphine in them back then?)

Fizzies are a gateway to Pop Rocks, man. If you get into that harder stuff the only thing you can do to get off it is become a Jesus Freak. Or a Zombie. Or Zombie Jesus.

And 7-Up had lithium in it until the late 40s, I believe. Nobody ever marketed a good LSD soft drink back in the 60s, goddamit… Isn't there a cannabis soda out now?