I have a bunch of random links and stories and such, so rather than have a bunch of different posts, I'm just going to have one post with one large paragraph, with back-to-back sentences that have nothing to do with each other. It'll be madness. Our house, in the middle of our street. So, Leslie Nielsen died. His deadpan delivery was perfect, and he undoubtedly inspired an entire generation of comedic actors. "Surely you can't be serious." "I am serious. And don't call me Shirley." Classic. What's up with flash mobs? I need to start organizing some shit. 250 people singing WASP's "Animal (Fuck Like a Beast)" at a mall or some sort of plaza or a zoo, everyone dancing suggestively and throwing raw meat all over the fucking place. The trick will be hiding the meat. Maybe a zoo won't work. A couple weeks ago, some dude in Wisconsin was so pissed off that Bristol Palin made the finals of Dancing With the Stars that he shot his TV with a shotgun. This is yet another reason Hollywood should stop making reality shows involving dancing. Further down the road in Gurnee, Illinois, some goblin attacked a cop with a dildo. Thanks to Hess for the link. What amazes me is that I had no idea Falcor and Mama Fratelli had a love child. I figured he was sterile. Jimmy Fallon does a pretty awesome Neil Young impression.
Finally, AC sent me what has the potential to be the story of century on Broadway. There is an American Psycho musical in the works. I can only hope that there are songs about axes to the face, lunch meetings with Cliff Huxtable, Ed Gein, returning video tapes, failing to get reservations at Dorsia, bone-colored business cards, feeding stray cats to ATMs, and, of course, the rousing final number: "Don't Just Stare At It, Eat It!"
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment