Kind of blech with the allergies today--mostly did fact-checking with the Cloverfield DVD (see linkspam below for more), and man, do I wish my sister could remember her Netflix password so I could get the '79 Dracula DVD for a day or two, and that's assuming it exists--so I'm just gonna move right on through:
Prince's desert reign at Coachella;
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But man, you ever watch 28 weeks later, when there's like hundreds of zombies at the beginning running after one guy? Picture that, but with clown make-up.
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To quote (I think) Benazir Bhutto: "the fault lies in your own nasty minds, and I cannot help that."
All I see is some kid in a towel. *shrugs* Exposed flesh=/(necessarily)=sex.
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Although personally, I don't really care one way or the other because I'm as interested in the talent-vaccum Cyrus family (I had to suffer through her father's one-hit wonder soiling the airwaves when I was in high school) as I'm interested in swimming with great white sharks. It's just that I can see where other people are coming from, and I don't think it's because they're all secret kiddie porn enthusiasts.
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This just in: Teenagers have sex!
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But again, I'll leave the frenzied attacks/spirited defense to others, as I'm not hugely invested either way.
(I think Annie Leibowitz is past it, as her work has been dull and unimaginative lately; but that's an argument for a different entry.)
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ScarJo as Mary, Queen of Scots? Ugh, whatever. I just finished reading Alison Weir's book about her, and I gotta say: Not seeing it. Maybe if she wasn't such a horrible, wooden actress.
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