Why I shall never watch Spiderman no way home!

Da main reason it’d be crap.

It’s been forty-five movies in only two blinks of my farting eyes, I think occasionally and therefore… I believe. I feel bombarded! I am a proud hated filled critic of the mediocrity glittering below. The sharks are swimming and I’m ready to be tucked up for an early night, proclaiming illness just to get out of going to the disease infested cinema for the chance to feel like less of a prick. I am old! I have been alive nineteen hundred years, I’m supposed to be a poet, a novelist full of the great virtue of bourgeoisie destroying eco-systems….blah-de-blue-blah!

Alert

Alert

Alert

Art-house-cunt-lover-here!

Tom holland lacks class or charm or personality to anything really to never offend baby-bummers or whatever generations hot to the lubricated touch these dayzzzz!!!

Johnny Depp, this guy is not!

Tony Leung this baby face could never become.

Hipper reference I am afraid I have none!

Oh oh oh, Timothy Olyphant’s youngish, well he appears younger than I am anyway.

Curse my foibled genetics.

I could be quietly watching any Wong Kar Wai, any sumptuous David Lynch delights, anything off of the top one hundred of any lists to do with he past. The past I can learn from, the present I am afraid I must avoid.