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Saturday, February 27, 2010

Jeff Bridges Is Still Cool

Just went to go see Crazy Heart. It was a good movie, so this one won't be a very funny review. However, I would just like to say this right off the bat-- if I ever look that shitty when I hit 57, somebody just fuckin' shoot me, OK? I'm counting on you, people. Anyway, Jeff Bridges is an alcoholic country singer (truth in film), and NO, you malignant bastards, I don't mean the crappy pop-country. I mean the real shit, the blues and gospel-inspired country, the type that's like what would happen if Slayer was a bunch of cowboys.

Long story short, he meets the reporter of his dreams, the all-too-worldly and oh-so-hot-40-year-old who's name I can't goddamn remember because they said it once and she's not even that hot because she's played by Maggie Gyllenhaal (please don't hate me Maggie I love you), and spends half her screen time splayed out on Jeff Bridges' ("Otis" Bad Blake) massive old-man gut and she has a four-year-old that looks like he carries every disease known to man and the middle plays out like a more-positive Heavy Rain and oh my God this sentence is going on forever and I've forgotten where I'm going with this, but the point is that Maggie Gyllenhaal's character is the weakest point of the movie for me.

(Everything's becoming a little disjointed right now-- maybe I'm watching too much Zero Punctuation. No I will not add a hyperlink; Yahtzee can go fuck himself. Your asses are my audience.)

It's a good movie, with a great soundtrack, no butt-monkey characters that make you wanna kill yourself for hating them and being unable to do anything about it (them being works of fiction and all), and a great soundtrack (if you like real country, not that Tim McGraw shit).

Go see this movie or I swear to Cthulhu I will take vengeance upon you. I have stock on both Jeff and this movie on HSX.

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About Me

San Jose, California, United States
From beginnings that almost made me one of the dreaded "beautiful people", I've dedicated myself to one simple goal: making sure I stay the HELL away from mainstream pop culture. As a secondary goal, I wanted nothing more than to have a helping hand in rearing the third wave of angry, mal-adjusted, overly-intellectual nerds. Heavy metal. Comic books. Movies. Sci-fi. Lord of the Rings. Led Zeppelin. Conan the Barbarian. Conan the (now-ex) Late-Night Host. Bizarre sexual fantasies involving women of varying degrees of badassedness. Bruce Campbell. Joss Whedon. All of these things, and so, so much more, I will address. And rave about. Or pan, as it may be necessary to do. Till Ragnarok, my brothers! Excelsior!