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Please don’t tell me that she’s going to be a dwarf who, halfway through Mirkwood, reveals she’s actually Thorin Oakenshield’s teenage daughter who disobeyed Dad when he told her she couldn’t come along on his quest…
Ah, it’s like Love and Other Drugs, except Kate Hudson can’t commit after she develops a fatal disease, instead of before.
What? It’s Cat Video Friday, ain’t it?
Looks dark and dreary and grim: that is to say, Scottish.
It’s sorta uncanny how spot on Bailey is in boiling down the eternal soundtrack to classic Who…
I forgot I remembered that jingle — “Muncha buncha, muncha buncha Fritos go with lunch” — until I heard it again here.
I’ve been astonished when I’ve traveled outside the U.S. how easily ordinary, mainstream, comparatively unadventurous consumers of media are able to digest the output of cultures beyond their own. The majority Americans seem unable or unwilling to do that. But why?
I can hear foxes screaming outside. It’s like this almost every night. The little buggers run rampant over nocturnal London…
Did director Ian Rickson make the conscious decision to replace emotion with a studied old-fashionedness? If so, why?
What if Han Solo were a sexy roguish private investigator? I’d be in my bunk, for one…
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