Never have I seen so much effort to revive something so medioc...

Fine. When will this country get serious about Scotland’s mental illness?

I remember watching Spectre in the theater, and when the big Bond/Blofeld reveal was made, I shouted out Dr. Evil’s “I’M DOUGIE!”, from Goldmember.

Actually, I thought three was a lot better than two (but still way behind one), partially because (as far as these things go) the writing was just a little bit better, but mostly because I got the sense that he really just threw caution to the wind, and went all-in on the silliness of it all. There’s a sense of…

I didn’t mind Mini Me or Fat Bastard, but, even for the late-1990s, that movie had an unseemly poop fixation. I can handle one or two scat jokes, but it seemed like every scene just squatted on the subject. I’m sure it was because it was number 2 in the franchise, but still, it was a real groaner. I’m just glad the…

Yeah, and the live tweeting stuff is pretty unnerving, too.

I was going to posit that this was probably some kind of viral marketing campaign, but then I remembered that E. coli is a bacterium.

FUN FACT: The Iron Man suit is - contrary to popular belief - a prop from a movie, and does not possess any of the super powers displayed in the movie, unless you count lingering body odor as a super power.

He calls her breasts “boobies”, and giggles like a fifth grader.

“... and this, Father, is a vial containing bits of the Holy Prepuce. Whatever you do, do not put this anywhere near your rectum. It took us four days to remove the smile from poor Father Malachi’s face, may God rest his soul.”

This is like my Uncle Al wondering if his Chia Pet gets along with his Chia Head.

Just out of curiosity, what did you think it meant?

Just like how I feel after an all-bean supper - stupid and loud things happen, but ultimately no movement.

Yeah, this was his second (third?) writing credit, and... well, let’s just say he peaked here.

... stupid lucky blind person... the seeing had to look at it.

“It’s perfectly fine, Mr. Smith. We pack these pots, pans, and tins of potted beef into the chute to give it proper, uh, ballast.”

Damn right. If nothing else, I thank this movie for priming me for how I would end up feeling a few years later after watching TPM. Kind of softened the blow.

While I’m sure I’d seen other movies by that point that arguably would qualify, this was definitely the first movie I had seen where, walking out of the theater, I thought to myself “well, that was 100% product.”

[resentful grunting]