Author Movies About #RedDawnTable One Can Enjoy With An A.G.T.  (Read 30 times)

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Movies About #RedDawnTable One Can Enjoy With An A.G.T.
« on: September 15, 2020, 05:56:28 AM »

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ I'm not going to make that "go viral," for one reason only: Too easy. Way, way too easy. I've been on this journey for decades. All y'all think I just got started? I didn't even start until WE HAVE WON.

In any event, this thread should be a fun one to fill up with. Post a tight clip, post an even tighter hashtag to go with it. Glowies love hashtags (duh--they invented them), and this production has been all for them--it's time to give a little something back after all those years of brilliant service.

I envision a slow, steady drip--you know, like the one a lot of you have experienced after coming back from TJ Maxx. (If any of you ever leave the place, that is.) puny rolleyes

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Hi, Mom[s]!

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« Reply #1 on: September 15, 2020, 06:13:50 AM »

So, let me tell you how this works. See the letters? Yeah, not a coincidence. The prop guys--or even the director, who the fuck knows... and that's the point--know what is gonna go down, because prop guys in the entertainment industry KNOW EVERYTHING. Why wouldn't they? They're smart, they're chemists, they have money and lots of free time to research books. Hell's bells, they probably wrote a lot of research texts. Duh.

So, the letters are circled--to remind people to read, people are forgetful--but, what's that right next to it? A TRIO OF WALKIE-TALKIES.

What are walkie-talkies used for? Why... to walk and talk, of course. M-0-0-N, that spells "I TELL YOU THREE TIMES. I TELL YOU THREE TIMES. I TELL YOU THREE TIMES."


Remember to tip your server DJ. They work hard, they meet a lot of people, they never get to relax... they probably don't even have time to digest their food, they're so busy.

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« Reply #2 on: September 15, 2020, 06:52:55 PM »
The below trailer is from an 80s flick--an overlooked gem. Supposedly written by "Michael Crichton" who is supposedly a high-falutin' science writer, but what he really was is, is the top figurehead for a creative writing group made up of a bunch of high-falutin' scientists, who want to write books--I mean, honestly, who doesn't? Doesn't this look like fun? It sure as fuck is--but are prevented from doing so do to their abhorrently and horrifyingly strict NDA/NCAs. Like seriously, there are people out there who work on stuff so cool, they're not allowed to tell their family's pet macaw.

However, in the real world, where a bunch of glowfags don't make all the rules and enforce them under pain of torturous, miserable agony... it is well known in academic circles that creative writing is a wonderful outlet to exercise the mind. It's simply not practical to take the brightest minds in the world that are working on the most significant and important projects and then force them to never tell a single soul what they are doing and then also say... "oh, you like to write? Okay, well, first of all, stop sending so many text messages to your wife, and secondly, don't write any short stories or novels at all, since something in your imagination might be something we want to earn our corporate stockholders an extra 0.2835% return on their investment, or something we might want to weaponize--wait, haha, just kidding, we're going to fucking weaponize EVERYTHING, so don't give any possible enemies any hint to any possible technological advancements by tracking who wrote which space opera novel with which detailed description of some whizz-bang doo-hickey that ends up being something we actually figure out how to make in five years time. We need that shit, because no one else can have any shit that might be useful. Why? BECAUSE REASONS, THAT'S WHY. So, yeah, don't write any books... hey, wait? Why are you sitting naked in the lotus position on top of your white lab coat in the corner of the bio-weapons lab, crying and masturbating into your own feces? We can't have that, we have to have you productive. Also we killed all the cleaning crew because we caught one giving Polly a cracker, so these tearstains are really going to be a problem if they're allowed to set. The semen and feces though... well, just leave them there, we'll mix up another batch of Sanka with them. However we can't have you not being productive for even a minute. Do you know how much it costs to enforce all these arcane and bullshit rules? Well, practically nothing really and it all comes out of black budget, but still, GET BACK TO WORK, DOCTOR SLAVE."

So the solution to this every day First World problem--or one of them, anyway--is to just have all these poor patched-up bastards under heavy invisible lock-and-key give all their manuscripts to one guy after mixing up their names, and letting that one guy publish them all. That is--or, was--Michael Crichton. Now, I don't mean to say that Crichton was a talentless hack--I have enjoyed many of his works and I have absolutely no doubt that he wrote some or most of all of them, however... look, it's obvious by now. Who keeps on cranking out book after book after book, every year like a clockwork organ grinder's monkey, and then mysteriously all those works end up being made into movies by Speilberg? C'mon Mang. That's not a coincidence, that's evidence of co-ordinated focused effort.

Which is great! Anyway, I don't know anything about it--this is just deducing. Still, I think I'm pretty near the mark: since Michael Crichton has "died," he's published forty-eight novels, had sixteen movies based on "his" works become global blockbusters, and has produced two children's plays--one of which he also conducts the orchestra in through telekinesis. Ladies & gentlemen of Belgium--this is simply not the work of one man.

I AM the work of ONE MAN. So, that's how I know. Do you see me with even one blockbuster? No, no... you do not. And thank God for that. I legit wanna live at least until my 69th birthday--careful, astute readers of this website will want to be added to my Facebook page by then for sure.

Now, speaking of sixty-nine, fans of The Partridge Family will want to check out this motion picture for sure, because it features a naked Susan Day getting a body scan. It's not that hot, it's not that big a deal... but it's Susan Day, NUDE. Some of you will know what I'm talking about. And aside from that, the flick itself is pretty bad ass. Includes a phenomenal end boss. I would recommend not watching the trailer, because it of course spoils the whole damn movie, so if anything about what I've written appeals to you, you should trot on down to Blockbuster (don't bother checking Hollywood Video--they don't carry flicks with druggy themes or a nude Susan Day, the latter of which seems an at least mildly understandable choice, with their business model, such as it is, they'd never keep them from being straight-up lifted) and pick lift it up for a view. It's the flick has got some problems, but it has some of the finest actors that ever lived in it, and a really cool concept: "Hey, what if I had a gun that shot scopolamine bullets?" .

I could tell you what I would do, but I don't want Duke to start being more guarded all the time than he actually is. He already knows that I know that he knows that I know that he knows about the anti-grav. If I had a shred of proof, he'd have to kill me, and really, none of us want Duke taken out by a bolt of lightning on the golf course the next day.

Also: dim the lights for viewing. It glows in the fucking dark. You folks here will love it.

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« Reply #3 on: September 15, 2020, 06:55:28 PM »
Reply #2 on: Today at 16:52:55

Yep, still a badass. Yep, still no leprosy. And, yep, I shut down the quantum node. It does appear to have a life of its own now, though. Oops. Am I bad? I'll take my answer off-planet, MORSELS Punylings.

Feeling peckish today.