What the fuck was that sound?! GET DOWN!
It's outside my bedroom window lurking...I feel its presence...
It must have escaped the lairs of Miramax Studios. That bastard Scorsese didn't tame it. He told lies!
He told falsehoods, bellowing Daniel's Frankesteinian creation would convey an American gang persona, a stache so grand it would actually transcend into...oh sweet Mary Magdalene...the dog's barking just stopped. That could only mean one thing...rape.
Production of Gangs of New York has stopped, but the stache is ever growing. It must feed.
Stop this ravager's sexual frenzy.
No comments:
Post a Comment