Thursday, March 10, 2005

 

Oh, Good Fuck, No

Dear Quentin Tarantino:

Can we talk? Really, can you put down the sword and- yes, yes I know, it's a Hanzo sword, let's just talk.

Dude, what's wrong with you? I mean, yeah, you just reentered Hollywood after four years in limbo, I'd be ecstatic, too, but-

Yes, I do know what they call a Quarter Pounder with Cheese in Paris. It's a Royale. And to answer Jules' eternal question, it's still a Whopper.

Look, seriously. Quentin. We hear you're going to film the season finale for CSI. And that's cool, because it'd be neat to see what you do with a TV crime show.

But, look. The Friday the 13th series? No one needs that. No one needs a man in a hockey mask chasing half-naked cheerleaders while "Run Through the Jungle" plays and you focus on their naked feet-

Look, Quentin. Put the- put the fucking sword down, Quentin.

Okay, you know what? I'll just go before you open a can of whoop-ass on me. Fair enough? I thought so.

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