WordPress put together another awesome overview of this horribly amazing blog for the year. I’m still not at a million visitors for the year, so that suicide option still stands unless that number is reached by 11:59pm on the 31st. I have my glass of vodka and tray of sleeping pills prepared, so my life officially hinders on your shares.
If I get a million visitors by that time or simply change my mind about killing myself like I did last year, you can expect a new review early in January for Paul Kyriazi’s ninja classic The Weapons of Death. I’m also working on another choose-your-own-film story that could be up sometime later this weekend.
Oh yeah, here’s the report:
Here’s an excerpt:
The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 12,000 times in 2015. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.
Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence have appeared in multiple films together, as you may know. In a few they have been romantically involved, such as Silver Linings Playbook, while in others they are simply connected vicariously through other characters, i.e. American Hustle. While watching them in American Hustle–in which Cooper plays an FBI agent bossing around a criminal Christian Bale, whose character is married to Jennifer Lawrence’s–I saw a tear in space and time for a brief period when Cooper and Lawrence were in the same scene, in a casino.
Mr. Robot on the surface appears to be a television show about an expert hacker with social anxiety who tries to fight an evil corporation with the help of the mysterious Mr. Robot and an underground group of rebellious tech experts called Fsociety. Elliot works with them to coordinate digital attacks while going through a morphine addiction as well as complicated relationships with his longtime friend and another fling. But this is simply the surface story.
For the past few years we’ve seen him tell us with complete sincerity that he’s a football player, teenage girl, a screaming toddler, a hot babe jogging (yeah, sure), and even inanimate objects and weather elements such as a lamp and a “pleasant breeze.” He’s even told us he’s a deer as he wanders into the middle of the street only to let himself get run over by a car to prove a point about insurance. People seem to find this amusing, while I’m seemingly the only one who can see the real tragedy occurring inside this man’s mind.
I know in my last blog post entry about The Tasting Room I said my new review for Hands of Death would be two weekends ago, but of course things come up. I’ve been working on the review the past few days, though, and I will definitely have it up later this evening. By later this evening, I’m talking around midnight Central Standard Time in America (thought I’d be specific for any international readers).
I wouldn’t even bother posting about this, but I actually saw that someone searched “hands of death 1987 review” today, which probably indicates there’s an audience who might like to see this thing posted.
So, get ready for some Mike Abbott action with those perpetually psychotic eyes.
Alright, I’ll start by saying that I’m posting another review sometime this weekend, this time for Godfrey Ho’s magnum opus Hands of Death. But for now, I want to talk about wine.
Do you like wine? Does the idea of a good wine consume your every being? Is it your philosophy: the yin and yang of white and red forever intertwined? Does a five-foot bottle walk into your bedroom in the middle of the night shouting “Mommy!” even if you’re a single guy without a kid and you just want to get some sleep? Do you find yourself in the office at around 5 going completely catatonic, unable to think about anything but wine pouring over your brain and through every vein as you drool on your desk, your ears bleed red wine, and the coworker next to you thinks you’re having an aneurysm? Well, I’ve got the perfect solution to help cure all of your wine needs: get regular or semi-regular shipments of wine.
The Tasting Room is a company that figures out your tastes in wine and sends shipments of 2, 6 or 12 bottles to your door based on your selections. The way it works is you can sign up for a free membership, and get a tasting kit of 6 mini bottles (that kit is also free if you sign up through my link back there), and then you rate the wines like Netflix movies. The Tasting Room will recommend wine selections based on your ratings, and you can order a shipment anytime within the next three months to your door. You can mix whites and reds, or simply get a shipment of all whites or reds if you’re a racist. Bottles usually cost a little under $13 apiece.
Once you become a member, you can get $20 off your next wine order if you share your specific referral link and get others to become members.
It’s a great deal, and if you’re a wino who doesn’t take advantage of this, you’re probably actually a wimoron.
Hi Jeff (I hope I can call you Jeff like you’re my best bud),
I’m not your biggest fan. I like your work, and enjoy your appearances, but I wouldn’t call myself the kind of guy who just watches a film or show because you’re in it. I just thought I’d write you, a pretty cool dude, an open letter. Sometimes a man gets the itch to write to a celebrity, and you just happen to be that celeb, the guy I used to call “Jeff Dannels” when I was a child who’d never heard the name “Daniel” before.