50 Shades of Grey - Whips, Nips, and the Drizzling Shits

I wasn’t planning on writing a review for this shit. Fifty Shades of Grey is two (!) hours and nine (!) minutes long. Dozens of scathing deconstructions already exist, both for the books and the movie. Some of those reviews were written by people with far better knowledge on BDSM and romantic relationships than I. I was just going to get reeeeally high, watch the movie, laugh a lot, and go to bed. It was supposed to be easy. Fun. A lighthearted romp with a movie that grossed 167 million God-Bless-America dollars and received a steady 25% on RottenTomatoes. The leading pair were known to have no chemistry, and supposedly the book author had a total stranglehold on production. It was incidentally nominated for an actual, honest-to-god Academy Award. This should have been great! I love pig slop that’s easy to point and laugh at- that’s why I’m here. Plus, I’d already read the books. And by ‘read the books,’ I mean ‘floated in a pool listening to the audiobook.’ Really, who has time to read actual books nowadays? Not this mess of a human being, that’s for sure.

So here I am, taking deep breaths and readying my brain for the onslaught. These next couple hours surely won’t be intellectually stimulating, but they might at least be pleasantly bad. And hey! I hear people get naked!

The USFL: Three Years, Three Dollars

I'm going to spout off a list of names for you. Ever hear of Tom Brady? Peyton Manning? Jerry Rice? Brett Favre? Barry Sanders? Dick Butkus? Of course you have. You don't need to look them up. You already know them, even if you have only a passing familiarity with the NFL. Every one of those players is either enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, Ohio, or will soon be enshrined there. Unfortunately, the commutative principle does not apply here. When you hear about the NFL, you don't think about Joe Montana, Rob Gronkowski, Adam Vinatieri, or Aaron Rodgers. If you're Joe Public, you think about the controversies; you think about the multiple instances of domestic abuse; you think about the epidemic of concussions, the CTE destroying the lives of former players; and you think about players kneeling during the national anthem, and the time-wasting debates over whether this is appropriate. Yes, the NFL is in dire straits right now, and not the good kind like you want. 

It used to be even worse.

Häxan (1922): Häx on, Häx off

Director: Benjamin Christensens
Genre: Documentary/Fantasy/Horror
Year of release: 1922
Country: Swedish/Danish
Runtime: Too damn long

Halloween is right around the corner, and the realization that I haven't published anything on this website is starting to gnaw away at my conscience. Mr. Pataki's been getting me more and more into horror, like an otaku slowing sucking a seemingly normal, slightly impressionable associate into Autonomous Angel Extra-Spicy Neko no Wan Wan Speciale Uber Deus +purasu+: Return of the Kakkoi Knight R2xdomo W. One of the ones he pushed on me some months ago was The VVitch, which I quite liked.