blurst day

It's been a long string of shitty movies at work, but they just keep lowering the bottom of the barrel. Guess most of the good titles are out, so now they're releasing everything in sight.

The piece of shit that wrecked my whole day was called "Give My Regards to Broad Street" and it's an ill-fated Paul McCartney movie from the mid-'80s. Ah, yes. Whether we're watching boring, gloomy people snipe at each other about a missing tape, or watching assholish-looking Sir McCartney perform tunes from his crappy solo repertoire, or enduring a 15-minute, no-dialogue period piece set to a Muzak-like version of "Eleanor Rigby," this movie redefines what shit the cinematic arts can crumble to. The whole plot is revealed as an extended dream sequence from the beginning, rendering the entire thing singularly futile.

If I ever meet that little cunt I'm gonna punch him in his fucking ass-face.