As an “underground” artist, I go broke often. Sometimes I have to sacrifice comfort or nourishment to pay my rent.
Sometimes, I’m broke because I’m a total assclown who takes public transportation across town to see a $22 popcorn movie, alone. (I didn’t have enough for actual popcorn.)
Even while facing the consequences, I have no regrets.
I don’t know what the hell Al Gore had to do with the history of Transformers, and I don’t want to know. I had to sit through the trailer for his second bullshit global-warming scare film, and he can go fuck himself with an iceberg.
Carrie Fisher, the beloved actress who played the role of Princess Leia Organa in Star Wars, is no longer alive. You’re welcome for the update, recently-awakened coma victim.
There is literally nothing I can say about this. Literally; even praise will be feted as heresy. Legendary comedian Steve Martin, who knew Fisher, dared to tweet that she was beautiful when he met her, and of course the virtue-signalers can’t have that.
This is a gift from the man who made The Jerk and wrote Picasso at the Lapin Agile, you philistines.
As the venerable Star Wars imprint slowly transforms into an empowerment series for little girls who wear costumes and bitter old fanboys, one of my favorite aspects is being scrubbed from the narrative:
Weird, stupid aliens.
He attempts to eat that dead Woodring monster.
I’ll never comprehend the segregationist nature of the “Star Wars fan”. Watching the fandom dismiss George Lucas, the creator of everything they care about, has been like observing a schism of zealots. Since general audiences weren’t born in the 80s, when ripoffs of Star Wars abounded, they gladly accepted a ripoff from J.J. Abrams. Continue reading →