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Wherein I channel my inner Stephen Colbert
Nov. 3rd, 2007 09:54 am(And here, I channel my inner Stephen Colbert. I'm genuinely sad that he couldn't have gotten a little further, but not surprised. That said, I think he's actually opening up some serious discussion about our political process, which is the far more important thing than him actually running for President. $35,000 to register as a Republican candidate? Are you fucking kidding me? But anyway, behold as I take my loss like a man:)
Nuts. I didn't get selected for Butt-Numb-A-Thon, Ain't It Cool News' 24-hour film festival. Harry said it was a difficult and painful selection to hand-pick about 100 from the 7,000 applicants. It's all at once a disillusioning, sobering, and disturbing thing to discover that there are bigger flaming movie and pop culture nerds than me. And yet so many of them have girlfriends, but I don't.
Well, to hell with them! I don't need them, and their surprise celebrity guest appearances, this year almost certainly to be Stallone presenting the new RAMBO film! We have our OWN celebrities right here in this area, you know! Lynda Carter is still in Potomac, last I checked! Ah-haaaa, do I interest you NOW, oh nerds of legion? And who lives up in Baltimore these days? JOHN ASTIN, bitches! Maybe I'll just give him a ring-o while I'm at it!
I'll start my own 24-hour film festival! With blackjack! And--and hookers! In fact... FORGET the blackjack and hookers!
...
Deep breath, Heffie. Deep breath.
...
*turns into Kurt Russell in DEATH PROOF*
Nuts. Next year.
I need a pick-me-up. But who the hell ever thought that I'd get it from CRACKED fucking magazine?
I cannot. Stop. Laughing. At this.
How the hell has CRACKED reinvented itself? Michael Ian Black is to blame, I understand. Shit, now MAD just needs to take their example and evolve. Because I cannot stand to live in a world where CRACKED is better than MAD. I refuse to live in that world. C'mon, MAD, what would Harvey Kurtzman do?
Nuts. I didn't get selected for Butt-Numb-A-Thon, Ain't It Cool News' 24-hour film festival. Harry said it was a difficult and painful selection to hand-pick about 100 from the 7,000 applicants. It's all at once a disillusioning, sobering, and disturbing thing to discover that there are bigger flaming movie and pop culture nerds than me. And yet so many of them have girlfriends, but I don't.
Well, to hell with them! I don't need them, and their surprise celebrity guest appearances, this year almost certainly to be Stallone presenting the new RAMBO film! We have our OWN celebrities right here in this area, you know! Lynda Carter is still in Potomac, last I checked! Ah-haaaa, do I interest you NOW, oh nerds of legion? And who lives up in Baltimore these days? JOHN ASTIN, bitches! Maybe I'll just give him a ring-o while I'm at it!
I'll start my own 24-hour film festival! With blackjack! And--and hookers! In fact... FORGET the blackjack and hookers!
...
Deep breath, Heffie. Deep breath.
...
*turns into Kurt Russell in DEATH PROOF*
Nuts. Next year.
I need a pick-me-up. But who the hell ever thought that I'd get it from CRACKED fucking magazine?
I cannot. Stop. Laughing. At this.
How the hell has CRACKED reinvented itself? Michael Ian Black is to blame, I understand. Shit, now MAD just needs to take their example and evolve. Because I cannot stand to live in a world where CRACKED is better than MAD. I refuse to live in that world. C'mon, MAD, what would Harvey Kurtzman do?
