“Okay, Teddy, let’s not evaluate rashly here, all right? It’s a misunderstanding. We’re not saying pilsners are boring. We’re saying that we are too boring to appreciate them properly, is what I’m going with.”
Turkey’s out, will’s out, knives out.
Hell yeah, a grown-ass man beating up on the adorable kids film, because my HEART is COLD as ICE.
In which Trey and Andy go for the turkey and talk about Trey’s third movie. Never let it be said that critics don’t have their favorites.
Vroom vroom zoom zoom beep beep screech crash bang boom man emotions vroooooom manly slap fight zip zip zap
My editor came up with a really good title for this piece, and I’m very mad I didn’t figure it out for myself first. At least the piece itself isn’t too bad!
Oh, come on, you didn’t think I’d go to a bunch of breweries and not ALSO go to a bunch of bars, too? You don’t know me at all, do you.
It’s called Music City, but as a secondary honorific, Good Beer City is accurate. It just doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as nicely.
A new Juliana Hatfield album, following the other new Juliana Hatfield album, except *this* Juliana Hatfield album is The Police.
100 movies. How many have you seen? None? A few? Enough? Because let me tell you, that’s a whole lot of movies.
Andy dips his toes into the world of sex work, and also books, the former a subject of new, genuine interest, the latter a constant struggle in time management, which is kinda funny because…Andy is a writer.
This is a movie, but also the epitome of a blockbusting year spent making overdetermined, obnoxious , totally disingenuous proclamations of feminine heroism.
Last week, for The A.V. Club‘s weekly A-Sides feature, I had the good luck of writing about the new FKA twigs album, Magdalene, essentially her way of working through her breakup with Robert Pattinson, which I know little about*, other than it resulted in a really great album by an incredibly talented artist. I also know that I’m …
I found the above image of Jason Momoa, one of my absolute favorite human beings on the planet*, posted on an article at Today, and I used it for obvious reasons in my post here: Jason Momoa is a golden god Jason Momoa got flack for having a dad bod, which to me is bananas Dudes, …
Quick, find a word that means something similar to “this is a real gosh darn good movie.”
A movie that proves there is no justice in this world when all the wealth is in the hands of the unjust, so thank heavens for mass food poisoning.
In which Andy makes the pickiest of nits about an otherwise rock solid album about how much it sucks to have your heart broken when you’re the big brain type and you know that people leave but memories remain.
The decade ain’t over ’til the ball drops, but eh, close enough in Internet years; let’s all get the pants scared off our persons.
All I want is to talk about Godzilla, but I’ll have to just settle for talking about Josef von Sternberg instead, even though his movies do not have radioactive thunder lizards in them.
New England is indeed a peculiar place, but your place would be peculiar, too, if it was built on some of the oldest bones buried in this country we call the United States of the Americas.