“it doesn’t matter what her achievements are”

There’s an awful lot of snotty presumptuousness going on despite my seeing no indication from here or anywhere else as to what Dre’s daughter’s scholastic achievements are.

Seconded. It was well-paced and competently staged, and these batshit story choices that kept it from actually being good were also strangely compelling in an “oh shit, what the fuck are they going to try to pull off next?” kind of way.

I think it’s strange to admit how this lifestyle and these life choices led to a trail of dead, and then turn around and say, “You’re in no position to judge us!” Yes, people are judging you, and yes, they have every right to. That’s the tradeoff; you got to have the fun, now you get to live with the judgement. When…

They’re missing a golden opportunity.  Think of the honeymoon tourism...

Yeah, not a particularly big AC/DC fan either. The song Back in Black I enjoy, but if I meant I wouldn’t have heard all those tiresome, lame Def Leppard songs, and all those tiresome, lame Shania Twain songs, and every excruciatingly lame modern country song that has fully appropriate the Mutt formula and coated it in…

For Def Leppard, it was more about how inescapable it was (Pour Some Sugar on Me was omnipresent across all platforms), and how generic and plodding and same-y every one of their songs were. Same draggy tempo, same [THUMP SPLAT] beat for everything. Basically what became the Shania Twain formula. (Go to hell, Mutt…

Of the collective musical trends that played out through my adolescent years, pop hair metal was the bane of them all, and Motley Crue represented its nadir to me at the time. (Def Leppard came in a close second, but ultimately I decided their annoying ubiquity didn’t trump Motley Crue’s skeevy loathsomeness.) I had…

You’re just suffering from twee-ness envy.

I’ve had it with these motherfucking unicorns in this motherfucking store!

Hey, just because he’s a waxed muscle man with a Dorothy Hamill haircut who goes everywhere with his kitty cat...

Desperate times and all that.  I mean, if “Dilly Dilly” didn’t work... (That catchphrase is gold, Jerry!)

Wait a minute...

Eh, the cynic in me is saying they’re in cahoots; the whole crap American beer mass-market is in freefall, and feuding (or pretending to feud) with each other is a way to make it a topic of discussion and keep them all in the conversation.

Maybe there’s some confusion, and he was actually cast as Orko?

Better, worse: those are value judgements. Showing up at a porno with your Mom?  That’s weird.  And the late 60s/early 70s is pretty much the only time in history where you could plausibly write it off to ignorance.  I think people lose sight of how radically society changed through the 60s.  Being a child of the…

They probably just shut off the projector figuring everybody had left already, seeing as staying through the entire film was nearly unprecedented.

Being a young adult during the late 60s/early 70s must have been really, really, really weird. I mean really.

Forrest Gump sure does get shit on a lot for what is essentially the weirdest blockbuster hit of all time.

Am I losing my mind? Didn’t he already review this? And hasn’t the grade acquired a + since then?