I was trying to find pics of hot Latinx beauties, and all I got were these treatises on treating people like people.

Absolutely, not to mention that some people live in cities and don’t have a driveway to charge on. Therefore what’s the point in them at all? (That’s an actual thing someone said to me, albeit paraphrased).

Sarcasm, buddy ;-)

Not this shit again. Look as George Lucas has explained, The Phantom Menace, was written with children in mind. So it only makes sense that you would have a slapstick character like Jar Jar Binks, a kid pod-racing pilot with a Dorothy Hamil haircut, and a plot revolving around a trade dispute over the taxation of…

I think he’s missing a critical difference between not seeing “many” 50-year old white guys and not seeing “only” 50 year old white guys.

I know what you’re saying. I once had to tow a 17 car locomotive 17,000 miles and I realize that I couldn’t do that in an EV.  So, no EV for me ever.

Let’s get real wild with it. That Thing You Do is better than Braveheart give him Best Picture for that one.

Correct. A completely different ballpark, though also fraught for different reasons. 

Preach.

Well, ya know, marketing, but it also calls back to a tradition oddly specific to mystery (and mystery adjacent) stories of “nonsensical sequel titles to connect it to the first one”. See also The Pink Panther (which is the name of the diamond in the first movie) and The Thin Man (which refers to the murder victim in…

Just like the saying goes: people in glass onions shouldn’t throw houses.

There’s a New Yorker article in which Polley talks about the experience of having her own kids insist on being set as background extras so they could see her during COVID. She makes speeches for three days about, “If at any moment you feel the slightest bit uncomfortable, or even just bored, please let any of us know…

Depends on what they’re doing.

Amongst them, and the whole Q crowd, there were various beliefs, none in any way practical. An overriding commonality was that if they just did something Trump would call in the NG or military to back them. The Storm, as they called it.

Drink Ovaltine.

Meanwhile, I’ll be YouTubing episodes circa 1999, fondly remembering a bygone era’s simpler days wherein Burton taught a toddler-me about rap music

The Joker: Tell me something, my friend. Where’s the cheek that doth not fade, too much gaz’d at? Where’s the maid whose lip mature is ever new? Where’s the eye, however blue, doth not weary? Where’s the face one would meet in every place? Where’s the voice, however soft, one would hear so very oft?

“Keats, I’ve got one piece of advice for you: Never rub another man’s rhubarb.”