Brand names are such a rip-off.  I much prefer a tasty can of Reconstituted Potato Product.

Point well taken. I got ahead of myself.

Okay, but allow me to point out your false equivalence here, which is the difference between a government mandating you to compromise your own moral judgements (as regressive as they may be) as a legal standard for business ownership, and the right to report that it happened to you and that you aren’t happy about it.…

I believe co-opting a forum designed to reflect metrics like quality of wares and services in order bludgeon people for their political beliefs or leanings is its own form of commercial terrorism.

How has Woody Paige been on television for 300 years now and not gotten any more polished?

Tom Arnold likes attention. Nobody has paid attention to Tom Arnold in quite a long time.

Anything is ‘the worst’ when a droplet of a contrary opinion can be extracted from it, much less any suggestion of criticism. And you seem to offer all sorts of slightly, kinda, not rah-rah cheerleading perspectives on things; hence ‘the worst.’

If presented with the opportunity of experiencing a body-swap moment, Quantum Leap-style, I think swapping into a woman being seduced by Jeff Goldblum would rank highly on my list.

I’m pretty sure he was the bass player for punk pioneers The Coitus Revolvers.

Look, I get the whole ‘gentleman’s game’ thing, and I respect it as well. I do get tired of the whole ‘it’s only cheating if you get caught’ mentality you see in other sports. In golf you’re supposed to police yourself, report your own infractions; you don’t break a rule just because you make a calculated risk and…

Okay, but when I met Juliette Lewis and told her I wanted to fuck her in character as The Other Sister, nobody found it nearly as cute.

They’d have to run the debates on a seven second delay. “What this cocksucker doesn’t understand...”

It’s 2018, and now Smashing Pumpkins sounds like Weezer? Strange days, indeed. Most peculiar, mama.

The modern sensitized crowd don’t put much stock in notions like personal responsibility, and are always ready to defer to any sense of powerlessness. He just couldn’t help himself, you see; we don’t understand his torment and struggles, and who are you or anyone else to judge. Seemingly though, he should have…

Splendor in the Cloverfield

Exactly; this particular brand of middlebrow pedestrian competence is like critical kryptonite.

Normally when I read Iggy’s reviews, it feels like he’s straining to contain his observations and analyses, cherry-picking his best commentary and turns of phrase to keep things flowing and at a manageable length. This one however felt like someone wrenching four painful paragraphs out of a void.

When they try to adapt Roald Dahl properties that aren’t Willy Wonka, nobody goes to see them. (Fantastic Mr. Fox, James and the Giant Peach, The BFG, The Witches, Matilda; box office disappointments to outright flops, every one of them.)

This reminds me of the scene from that Star War movie when Leia surrendered to Imperial forces after Darth Vader left a mean comment on her Facebook feed.

Yeah, but it’s okay when it’s done to the right people for the right reasons, like torture or other aggressive marketing techniques.