I see. Well on behalf of all the real film students here, you're a disgrace to our community. Every time you open your mouth to make a lame comment, a part of cinema dies.
But--
No no, say no more. We can't risk you killing one of the greats. Remember what happened to Robert Altman.
So class, the moral of the story is that talking in the theater has the same effect on directors that saying "I don't believe in faeries" has on faeries.
Mommy, why am I so "different" from the other little boys?
Well...um...
ZZXX/:Mommy, why am I so "different" from the other little boys?...ZX...Mommy, why am I so "different" from the other little boys?...ZX...Mommy, why am I so "different" from the other little boys?
Oh dear Lord in Heaven, please no! It's Christmas! You couldn't possib-AAGHH! AAAAGGGHH!!!
Dickens erased the original ending, in which Ebenezer Scrooge and Bob Cratchett rob a counting house in a dazzling shootout found only in John Woo movies!
The story ends and the book is closed, sealing off the rift in the space-time continuum...
What's on the other side?
Another dimension where Christmas is a beloved holiday about giving and kindness instead of the moneygrubbing day off that department stores sell us every year.
Ya know what joke I hate? In movie trailers, where the narrator says, "From the guys who saw ________!"
Oh, I hate that shit! Like they're the only people who ever saw that movie. It would be better if it were...
"From the guys who are about to be stoned to death outside the FOX studio gates for making that forthcoming shitball movie 'Meet the Spartans', comes..."
A little more violent than I was gonna go, but sure. That works too.
CRUNCH..chomp.. chomp..chomp.. chomp..CRUNCH.. CRUNCH..chomp.. chomp..CRUNCH.. Dear lord do I love Pringles.. CRUNCH..chomp.. chomp..chomp.. chomp..CRUNCH.. CRUNCH..chomp.. chomp..CRUNCH..
what the fuck...
*sigh* finally...
crunch..CHOMP.. CHOMP..CHOMP.. crunch..crunch.. CHOMP..crunch CHOMP..THEY'RE RIGHT YOU CAN'T FUCKING STOP! ..crunch..crunch.. crunch..CHOMP..