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We all know how “down with the times” I am… but in this rare case I’m being relatively good, as Grindhouse only came out two months ago.

I’ve only seen the first feature, and I can already declare it the greatest film of all time.

It is truly the Citizen Kane of homage-to-seventies-sexploitation-and-violence flicks. And the music rocks.

And Rose MacGowan, back in the Doom Generation days, was a stone, villianous fox. Then she was on Charmed and all that and married the prince of darkness for a while (rebellious teens), and I think had some plastic surgery, and it was like, wha happened? But now she’s here as a go-go dancer, then she get stumped, then they attach a table leg to the stump, which is hot, and for the coup de grace… well… we all know by now.

I’m on the fence as to whether I’m going to even watch Tarantino’s portion (Death-Proof). Kinda don’t want to ruin the perfection.

Melissa Joan Hart’s younger, evil twin is so terrified. What’s wrong, girlie?

Now she’s so happy! She’s plotting the use of her weather-domination device!

He’s a good guy, that Sanjaya. Girl, you really got him now.

And he needs to leave the show. He shouldn’t be there. For the good of the hunger-strikers.

I’d like to take a moment and suggest that we all remember her as I saw her when I was a fourteen year-old boy — posing in her prime in Playboy[1].

Please do this as opposed to remembering her torrid marriage to the rich old guy, the torrid fight to get the money, the torrid weight gain and subsequent bizarre reality show, and the torrid death of her first son.

And, now, her own what-I-can-only-suspect- will-be-torrid death. I am a horrible person.

[1] I’m going to leave it at that in terms of level of detail regarding the remembrance of things past.

We’re three episodes into the second and final season of HBO/BBC’s excellent Rome, a show that distinguished itself last season with the perfect mix of nudity, honor, betrayal and abject violence.

Of course, since this is “history”, we all know how it ends: with Liz Taylor marrying Richard Burton in a rocket-fueled torpor. But things seems to be lopsided this season so far… let’s hope they’re saving up for the endgame:

[ image source

ha ha, jerk. put a little foam on your wounds, to help ease the pain.

thanks to neil.