I feel safer now. Thanks, Tom!
The day before Thanksgiving at the Dupar’s Pie counter at the Farmer’s Market. I got two pumpkin, a banana creme and a Willie-Bird Smoked Chicken.
What’s the f***ing hurry? To quote Iggy: “Hear come the assholes they can smell the money.”
Steve McQueen, a real guy, a real dead guy who most of these so called leading men in Hollywood would not even be worthy of washing the windshield of his Porsche 917 with their tongues, is forced to hawk watches after he’s dead. Sad thing is, he will.
This is the first movie that I ever went to see; at the Woods Theatre with my brother, age seven or so. Roger Corman, at his finest: atomic mutated crabs with human eyes who eat your brains. To make things worse, the scientist victims are on a shrinking atoll (shot in Malibu and Griffith Park.) […]
You see a lot of ejecta on the streets of Hollywood, but nothing could be more poignant that a filthy red Elmo in his final agony. What’s worse was this scene was witnessed by a small boy no more then three or four and his mother. The boy tried to reach out to this beloved […]
VOTE! (Not that it’ll matter.)