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Thursday, October 6, 2016

It's a Deadpool Kind of a Day

Some days, some stretches of days even, the only thing to lift the BIG GIANT SAD is watching Deadpool. Yes. Again.
Life is an endless series of train-wrecks with only brief, commercial-like breaks of happiness.
Deep. He's Schopenhauer by way of Nietzsche and Longfellow, with a bit of Lenny Bruce and Denis Leary added in for spice.
From the studio that inexplicably sewed his fucking mouth shut the first time comes five-time Academy Award viewer, Ryan Reynolds in an eHarmony date with destiny. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you... me! Deadpool.
Fourth wall breakage always gives me the electric shimmy and this movie's got a zillion of 'em.
A fourth wall break inside a fourth wall break? That's like, sixteen walls.
Even my pumpkins are rockin' the Deadpool look
His friend Weasel, commenting on Deadpool’s post-superhero-izing skin:
You look like an avocado had sex with an older, more disgusting avocado.
Not gently. Like it was hate-fucking. There was something wrong with the relationship and that was the only catharsis that they could find without violence.
Star in your own horror films. Because you look like Freddy Krueger face-fucked a topographical map of Utah.
Deadpool meets the teenage superhero who’s gonna help him and snarks to her:
LOOK! Im a teenage girl, I'd rather be anywhere than here! I'm all about long sullen silences, followed by mean comments, followed by more silence! So what's it gonna be, long sullen silence, or mean comment? Go on, take your pick.

Negasonic Teenage Warhead deadpans back ...You got me in a box here. 
His girlfriend Vanessa’s has a beautiful reaction to the new, totally not ready for close-ups look:
After a brief adjustment period and a bunch of drinks, it's a face... I'd be happy to sit on.
I’m tellin’ ya – that’s LOVE!

Vanessa has another fabola line when some asswipe in a bar slaps her ass she, faster than a Black Mamba on beauties, grabs his balls, yanks hard and says:
Say the magic words, Fat Gandalf.
Yeah, she rocks.
And in one last fourth wall break, at the very end, after the credits have rolled, our man Mister Pool comes back to give us the 411:
Oh! I can tell you one thing, and it’s a bit of a secret. The sequel? We’re gonna have Cable. Amazing character, bionic arm, time travel. We have no idea who we’re going to cast yet, but it could be anyone. Just need a big guy with a flat top. Mel Gibson, Dolph Lundgren, Kiera Knightly? She’s got range, who knows? Big secret, shhhh. Oh, and don’t leave your garbage all lying around. It’s a total dick move.
Today, instead of watching Dead’s hijinks for a sixth time, I need to fix my trike  – poor baby has a wee prob which prevents me from riding. Yes, this adds layers to my sad – JUST what I needed! I also MUST continue reading the Titanic sized manual that I found for my “new” camera. Pixel aspect ratio shit’s tripping me way the fuck up. Why can’t I just plug in desired print output dimensions (24”x36” fer instance at 300 DPI) and have the damn thing automatically adjust? Hmmmmm?

Math is HAAAAAARD! Wah.

OK, maybe I’ll just watch the intro credits one more time before I start the day. You know, a little boost of magical snark to kick off my day.

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