hello, I’m Daniel. voted “most profane fuck on letterboxd” three years running.
I don’t sleep much, so I watch movies.
lemme just...hold on a second no no I got this...just let me...alright okay. now the lights.
no? no? after all this presentation?
this shit’s so fucking old school it practically comes with a Schooly D drum riff. wiggly wobbly folklore melting madness. inventive, lively, dated as fuck.
not a lot of homicide attempts on our friendly local Infernal Adversary but I have to say whoever made this hated snakes. there’s so much snake punching in this. you’d think Andy Sidaris or the depraved people behind Python (one or two, who gives a fucking shit) made this. there’s some pretty magical “special” “effects” going on this and a lot of incoherent scenes where nothing much happens then boom, stare-down exploding tits. it’s a lot like one of them…
I, too, had never taken a basic sociology class and was thusly blown away by the impossible brain power of Jordan Peterson, a man so intellectually formidable that a Slovenian trash panda with a persistent cold obliterated him harder than an amateur nineteen year old on pornhub’s black cock friday.
the fantasy of Westworld is predicated upon the mythologized, oleaginous view people have of a “Wild” West — something to manifest your destiny at. something to not just be conquered but tamed. the frontier of a new and savage world, that only responds to the brute force and violent cunning of stronger, smarter predators. it’s an alluring fantasy; to imagine yourself at the apex, merely than another cog.
american westerns tended to be more straightforward stories; our noble square-jawed hero…