PUT THAT DICK IN MY MOUTH!

Words fail me

Nashville Robert Altman's masterpiece. Also maybe the best cinematic portrait of "America" (as an idea/concept) ever. It sprawls all over the place and covers a whole lot of ground but never feels one bit over-stuffed or indulgent. The ending is one of the most moving things I've ever seen.

Those Bone Thugs shoes look like something a fat dude in jean shorts and a dragon shirt would wear.

It's back again for some reason. I think maybe whatever he hosted it on is acting wonky? I'm going to move it somewhere else in order to prevent this from happening again.

They just weighed the evidence against the fact that he made the greatest song in the history of everything and decided that he was far too valuable to society to lock away forever. I think they made the right choice.

My dad left when I was four. Thanks for opening those old wounds, suref142! Fuck you.

Dennis Kucinich's name hasn't been in the papers for like three months. Dude had to do something.

Working titles for this thread: "A Report on the Banality of Evil" "'Where has God gone?' he cried. 'We have killed him--you and I.'" "Mistah Kurtz--He Dead" "And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?" "Beyond the Pale"

Deltron 3030 is like the ultimate "hip hop for people who don't like hip hop" album.

I better hop on the French New Wave train before all the good shit's gone. Pierrot le fou My favorite Godard film and the last really "fun" thing he ever did. The movie's all over the place, gleefully hopping from genre to genre and idea to idea. It's at once a "lovers-on-the-run" story, a gangster movie, an existentialist romance, a comedy, and a deconstruction of cinematic form. It may be a total self-indulgent mess, but it's probably the sprightliest, most entertaining self-indulgent mess in cinema. Also, Anna Karina and Jean-Paul Belmondo are pretty much the best movie couple ever.

Fleet Foxes suck for reals. Lame ass unwashed bearded dudes playing derivative "rural" indie rock. Fuck that shit.

That's kinda the whole point. The movie's really about "going somewhere" or "doing something" but is instead trying capture a certain feeling of aimless post-War youthful ennui. Early Godard is all about atmosphere and shit like that. And I can't really grasp the sort of mindset that allows a person to enjoy something as confrontational and purposefully obtuse as Week End while hating the comparatively "pleasurable" likes of Bande à Part and Alphaville.

Annie Hall I can't really put into words why I love this movie so much, which is largely why it's taken me so long to get this posted. I mean, I could just recite the thing's Monster.com profile ("Best romantic comedy ever!" "Woody Allen's masterpiece!" "Seriously funny and insightful and moving all at once!" etc) but that seems kinda hollow and empty for a movie that means so much to me on a personal level. So instead I'll just say that Diane Keaton melts my ice-cold heart like no other and leave it at that.

Remember when ICP revealed that God was the ultimate inspiration behind their whole act? That was pretty hilarious.

In highschool, I was not very popular. You could even say I was sort of an "outcast," heh. But I liked it that way. I wasn't into the stuff that my mindless peers were (ie "getting hammered," etc. I see no enjoyment to be found in drinking cheap beer until you black out--obliterating myriads of brain cells in the process, no doubt (though it's not like most of the kids in my hs reall used their braincells in the first place lol). Instead I was more interested in more "intellectual" pursuits--reading avant-garde philosophy, listening to classical and experimental music, watching foreign cinema, stuff like that. My weekends weren't spent going out and getting "trashed" and fucking disease-infested skank but instead sitting home alone in quiet contemplation, and if I had the chance to go back in time I wouldn't change a singular thing. People called me a "loser" and a "freak" but I knew the real truth: it was they who were the losers, wasting thier lives in such pointless manners. Why, I bet most of them didn't even know who Nietzsche was! Hahaha can you imagine? Fucking plebians. I'll show them, though. One day, I will be a respected public intellectual, called upon to comment upon all the most pressing issues of the day while they will probably be stuck working at used car dealerships and going home to their former "hottie" wife who is now fat and their five ungreatful, whiny crotchspawns. Who will laughing then?

My best friend grew up to make this

I kinda do too, in a "hahaha oh my god the world is a horrible place" kinda way/

Luke Walton is basically completely useless.

I'd totally rock a keffiyeh if I wasn't certain that all my unhip friends would call me a faggot if I did

Che Guevara shirts mean little more than "I, the wearer, am stupid as hell and totally oblivious to irony." Really, reading any sort of pernicious motives into contemporary fashion is pretty dumb because contemporary fashion people are, on the whole, totally self-absorbed and utterly ignorant when it comes to world events. Most people who wear keffiyehs wear them because they think they make them look cool and transgressive, not because they support Noble Palestine's struggle against the Imperialist Apartheid of Israel.

Not just "hatin'" but also for murdering them by convincing pregnant 14 year-old girls to commit suicide by blowing themselves up in pizza parlors. Actually keffiyehs are for protecting the wearer's head from bright sunlight and also for keeping sand out of his/her mouth/eyes. A little known fact is that they are sometimes ever worn by American soldiers stationed in Middle Eastern countries!

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb The finest work of satire since Swift. The screenplay has quotables out the ass and the direction is totally on-point and top notch all the way through, but it's the two unbelievably great comedic performances turned in by Peter Sellers and George C. Scott (with an assist from a supposedly not-in-on-the-joke Slim Pickens) that really put it over the top.