The more you know! *pretty multicolored shooting star*

The difference is one is fucking shit and the other is fucking shit. Fucking SHIT.

there's no defense to seeing this movie willingly

Hey IZ! Or oddeye, or anyone else for that matter. Totally unrelated to this video, but there's a Lars Andersen video in the hopper that's got six votes, and needs one more. It's at the very bottom of the page and about to get deleted any minute now, so one vote would be much appreciated!

It was either that movie or hang out in the nearby mall for 3 hours, or just sit outside and freeze to death. And I have a near-fight-or-flight reaction to malls and I kinda like being alive.. but yeah, looking back, I probably should've stayed outside #emotions #heyisawredlineinthetheatre #freezetodeath

Sorry EH, didn't see your post but it looks like it's on the front page now anyway.. I always thought you had front page privileges. Seems like a lot of the Nick Bravo vids appear on the front page really quickly and I check the hopper frequently. Then again, it IS Nick Bravo. I used to have a friend named Lars Andersen. Even in high school he could grow this really long beard and seemed like he belonged in medieval times, was really into D&D etc. Doubtful it's the same guy (Lars Anderson is the Scandinavian equivalent to John Smith) but it'd be cool if it was.

Oh NM, it's THAT Lars Anderson. Definitely not the same guy. I was thinking it was a Lindybeige video or something.

I saw this in the theater, but it was free, because I had wandered in after crusting off an entire bottle of ketamine straight out the popcorn popper, snacking on delicious k-chips mixed with M&Ms. As it turned out, I wasn't the only one in the theater: a vast orgy was simultaneously taking place. Men and women of various ages, races and genders, going at it in a maddening free for all of flesh. As I slowly succombed to the koma, I saw what I believed to be a Chinaman in a rice paddy hat, passing around a flute, I recognized him: his name was "Singapore Sam", and I knew he was the man who had killed my brother. Struggling against the rapidly increasing hold of sweet ketamine bliss, I lumbered toward him, and grabbed the tookie in his hand, and while I watched in slow motion, I pounded it down his throat, until he choked blood.

As the film came to an end, the opening credits to "Star Wars: Episode II: Attack of the Clones" scrolled up. Sodden with blood, the caramel sweet incense of opium dense in my nostrils, experiencing phantasms of delight with each passing heartbeat, the frantic sexual peak of the crowd reached it's inevitable climax. They slowly flopped to a halt, as did I. It was there and then that I discovered that the darkest secrets of the American West lie behind the closed, dimly lit doors of b-cinema.